Change Your Mind
by Nightingalelynx
Summary: Fawn Saffron has always been good at changing other people's minds, but when it comes to herself, she's a stubborn, stubborn girl. So you can imagine her own surprise when she changes her mind about Draco Malfoy, of all people, in his darkest year. But there's a problem: she doesn't know he's a Death Eater. fawn's POV, mild adult themes, previously titled: "A Baby Deer."
1. Something Kinda Ooh

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter; if I did, I would be dancing around at Hogwarts and waving my wand around, trying to do a spell even though I'm pretty sure I'm a muggle. I can keep dreaming, though, right?**

**Author's Note:**

I know I've got my other fanfic on hiatus, so I should probably be working my ass off on that one rather than this one, but this one just kind of wrote itself. Hope you guys like it! Also, the title of this chapter is taken from the song by Girls Aloud, so I don't own that either. Sniff.

"_Everything about Draco Malfoy was indecent." ~Fawn Saffron._

**Something Kinda Ooh**

I was kind of cold. As usual, I had come alone to Diagon Alley to pick up new supplies for the coming year at Hogwarts. The problem was, I got cold pretty easily, and it was just my luck that I picked a windy day to come to Diagon Alley.

I slipped out of the _Apothecary_ with my hands already full with supplies and ducked into _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. _The short, pleasantly plump woman popped up from behind the screen at the sound of the bell that had sounded each time the door opened.

"Hello again, darling…" She trailed off as she took in my form. "Oh Merlin—look how much you've grown!"

My cheeks heated up a little, signifying a blush. She didn't only mean me growing _tall, _necessarily, since I've always been tall for my age. I had filled up a bit more over the summer, a change that I, who had been branded 'little girl' by the Slytherins, welcomed. Not that I had ever been unattractive, though. After all, it was in my genes.

Speaking of the summer…what a long summer it had been. I sighed, thinking of all those empty, lonely nights in Hogwarts. The Great Hall wasn't quite the same without the babble of hundreds of students filling it. I couldn't wait until school started again. "Hi to you too, Madam Malkin," I replied, shrugging my robe off and wondering who was behind that screen.

"Well then, miss Saffron. You can come over—I'm just measuring this boy up—nothing indecent, I assure you. I assume you want the usual type of cloth?"

I nodded a quick yes to her question and slipped over to join her behind the screen. I barely registered a familiar shock of platinum blonde hair, broad shoulders on a lean frame—before I realized who was behind the screen. My relatively mild mood was wiped straight off my face. There was no doubt about it: Draco Malfoy—the arrogant, cowardly little bully, my devoted archenemy. I hated him. So much. Even now, I could feel the rage and disgust that I had managed to bury during the summer course through me again.

But… damn. Madam Malkin had been wrong. Everything about Draco Malfoy was indecent. Sure, he may have been fully dressed, but it was all in his eyes. Those silver eyes glimmered with some sort of dirty little secret. I gave a subconscious shiver. Creepy.

"Hello, Fawn." Draco murmured, smirking with those slate grey eyes as if he knew something I didn't.

The facial expression I had on now was probably pretty unattractive, but I couldn't care less. "Hello." I nodded curtly, before turning my cheek towards him.

Great. The first sixth year student I see after a long, _long _summer just had to be him, didn't it? Fate hated me, I swear.

"Goat." He mimicked my cold, curt demeanor, but replacing my name with the nickname he and other Slytherins had come up for me. To top it off, they thought they were being funny and original each time they said it, too.

"Pathetic," I mumbled beneath my breath. I glanced over at him again, and realized that he was currently eyeing me up and down with a ridiculously dazed expression on his face.

It was like that every time he saw me—as if he were _stupefied _into place while tectonic plates were shifting. Yeah, right, Malfoy. As if you haven't known me for five years now. This time, his regular smirk took a bit longer than usual to reappear. "You sure you shouldn't be shopping in the Whopper wear section instead?" He said suddenly, seemingly recovering equilibrium.

There we go. Now I can go to sleep tonight knowing that all was right in the world.

"Now, now, Mr. Malfoy, that's not very nice," Madam Malkin interrupted him before I could. She had always been very protective of me—most people who knew about my background were. In fact, most people were subconsciously protective of me either way… another effect gifted to me by my parents—my mother, in particular. "Fawn is a lovely girl who I daresay is a little on the skinny side. Your comment is very far from the truth, and very unnecessary." Then, smiling up at me kindly, she added: "I've got your school robes ready, dear, anything else you might need?"

"Um…" I shuffled my feet awkwardly. I didn't want to mention this in front of Malfoy, but with Madam Malkin's expectant gaze on me, I had no choice. "I need some new… err… underwear?"

I meant underwear… but the top part. I always got it from this store, due to the fact that I knew nothing about the muggle world and was therefore too afraid to venture out on my own. Dumbledore had kindly requested Madam Malkin to go out of her way a little to help a little orphaned girl, and she had agreed. I hoped she understood what I meant, indirect as I had said it.

She did.

Unfortunately, Draco did too.

As Madam Malkin hurried off to get me what I needed, Draco leaned in close to my ear. "I wonder… will she make you try it on in front of me?" He whispered, his hot breath tickling my neck. "I can be the judge of just how much you've grown this summer."

I shoved him away with disgust. "Get off, you asshole."

"Oh, loosen up, Fawn," Draco replied, rolling his eyes and readjusting his robes. "Just having a bit of fun. You never have fun."

"I have lots of fun, thanks, just not with you." I blurted out, realizing belatedly how he might have taken that comment. There was no doubt about it—this time I probably turned as red as the Weasleys' hair.

"Yeah? Fun like… say… turning me and my friends into _slugs_?" Draco spat suddenly. I was taken aback. I thought we were being (kind of) civil? He was seriously bi-polar. One moment he was teasing, the next he was furious.

"Gee, sorry, Malfoy," I returned sarcastically. "But if you don't remember, you were the one who bullied us all through last year—deducting points from Gryffindor just for 'not liking' Harry? Seriously, Malfoy, you do that and you think it's fine, but when we fight back—"

"You always fight back, you bloody old goat!" He drawled condescendingly, the blaze of anger muffled a little. "Do you know how much embarrassment that ferret incident caused me? And then when you tricked my father into releasing Dobby—"

"Dobby deserved it! You lot were treating him so badly—"

"Yeah? And what about the time when _you _gave me boils all over and then hung me upside down from a tree—"

"Because you turned my hair into _antlers_! This is so not fair!" I exploded finally, too worked up to care about the other customers' stricken expressions. Actually—just kidding. I cared. I have always cared about what other people thought of me.

I mumbled an apology to them before turning back towards Draco. "Look, you sick piece of shit." I shoved my face right up to his just to seem more menacing. I didn't know why I had ever been deluded into being civilized with him. "You only ever think about things your way. You've been pretty horrid to my friends and I, too, okay? So don't go complaining about the petty little things I've done to you."

"You know what?" Draco said suddenly. I flinched at the loud tone of his voice, as it probably attracted a lot of attention. "You want things to be fair? Let's play fair. I challenge you…"

"To a duel? Are you sure about that?" I cut in, pleased. Dueling was my forte, after all.

"No. We'll get into trouble." Draco pretended to look regretful at that. We both knew that wasn't what held him back. No, his mind was set on something else: I had played this rivalry game with him for far too long to be fooled by him. "I challenge you to a drinking game at the Leaky Cauldron. Winner is the one who doesn't get drunk."

"Deal!" I shot back impulsively. I would _not _back down… even though I knew perfectly well that I was a total lightweight. Just gotta concentrate, right? I can do this. "No problem."

Draco snorted. "Yeah, yeah okay."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You wanna say something? Say it."

The blond boy shook his head slowly, a little smile playing on his lips. "Nothing, Fawn. It's just…" He shook his head again. "You amuse me."

"Great!" I scoffed. "I'm glad I can be of service. Now let's go!"

Five minutes later, we were standing in the tiny, grubby little place called the Leaky Cauldron. Malfoy was earning many suspicious (and some downright frightened) stares, while I earned a few confused ones. We were not regular customers here, after all, and seeing us appear together outside of school was evidently freaking some people out.

"Looks like everyone heard about what happened to your father, huh?" I whispered to Draco, just to rub it in. I gave him my cruelest smile.

"Yes, but no one has ever heard of yours," Draco answered smoothly, making his way towards the counter. "As many butter beers as you think Saffron (**note: this is Fawn's last name) **here can handle, now." He ordered the barman, plopping himself down next to a slim man dressed in a striped suit. The man looked up from his newspaper and turned quite green when he saw the familiar cruel, sharp features of a Malfoy.

I rolled my eyes. Who did he think he was? "Sorry, Tom," I apologized sweetly to the bald bartender. "He's just upset that his father is in Azkaban."

In one flawless motion, Malfoy grabbed the front of my robes. "Are you going to play around here, Saffron, or are we going to get on with it?"

I kicked him in the shin.

"Let's get on with it," I snapped. "If I win, you are not to harass me or any of my friends ever again this year. Got it?"

"What if I win?" Draco said slyly.

I shrugged, impatient and a little nervous. Not that I would ever tell him that. "You decide."

"If I win… I get to spend the night with you."

My head snapped up. "_What!?_" I yelled, making the shop go rather quiet. "Are you more insane than you look, Malfoy? Because that's not going to happen. Ever."

The reply came in one word. "Scared?"

I glared at him. That cheeky little asshole, thinking he could take advantage of my refusal of backing down when it came to him?

"Ooh!" A plump lady dressed all in pink spoke up from a seat away from me. "Playing a drinking game, are you now?"

Her husband, an equally plump, equally kindly looking man grabbed his wife's hand and tried to get her to shut up, all the while giving pointed looks at Draco.

"No, no, Ted, I want to make sure they play fair!" The lady chirped, batting her husband's hands away. "Ooh, young man, what a pretty girlfriend you have there!"

My first thought was that she clearly did not know who the 'young man's' father was. Then, the rest of her sentence registered in my brain.

I spluttered. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I think you're mistaken—"

"This old _goat _is not my girlfriend!" Draco snapped. "And mind your own business, woman!"

I turned to glare at him. "Stop being rude to people! You're no-one now!"

"I'm destined for great things," he replied, giving me an unsettling look.

With a huff, I turned away. Unfortunately, the lady did not take the hint.

"Ooh, you two shouldn't fight, you know. Here, I'll state the rules. What's the bet, though, kids? Ooh, I just realized, you two are much too young to be playing a drinking game: aren't you two still in school?"

I opened my mouth to interrupt, but Draco beat me to it.

"Our terms is that if she wins," he tilted his head towards me, "I'll stop being rude to her and her mudblood and blood traitor friends in the hallway."

The poor lady turned a slight shade of pink at Draco's vulgar use of language.

"And if I win, I get to spend a night with her." Draco continued, clearly not caring in the least about the lady's reaction. "Still want to referee?" He finished rudely.

The Leaky Cauldron was deathly quiet.

"I'm so sorry, ma'am," I told her sheepishly, breaking the awkward silence. "He just gets like that sometimes. If it makes you feel a little better, I'm not going to accept his terms." I gave her a smile I hoped was soothing, and it seemed to work because she relaxed a little.

"Alright then, dear. You seem like a rational sort." She tried to give Draco a condescending glance, but just ended up looking frightened. "I'll leave you two to it."

I smiled at her, painfully aware of all the different eyes upon us.

"I still accept your challenge," I told Draco, turning to face him. "But no terms. Winner gets the glory of winning. Loser gets the shame of losing. Deal?" We regarded each other for a long, long moment. He glared at me, with those chillingly indecent grey eyes, while I sat, still calmly waiting for him to answer.

Then he turned away, and as I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding, he grabbed one of the cups of butter beer and drained it in one gulp.

"Game on."

In the background, I heard the pink lady whisper to her now terrified husband: "They say they're not dating, Ted dear, but don't you think there's just something… I don't know, something kinda 'ooh' between them? Like they're meant to be?"

Her husband hushed her.

The murky, bland colors of the Leaky Cauldron seemed to swirl around me. There was an awful acidic taste in my mouth and down my throat, and no matter how much butter beer I drank, it never seemed to fade. Or maybe it was the butter beer that made it stronger. I wasn't sure.

It was funny—I couldn't seem to tell if the pub was quiet or loud—on the one hand, I could almost swear it was quiet, the kind of quiet that usually worried me, but then there were flashes of sound and there was this bright ringing and pounding in my head. It reminded me of a parade. Or maybe heavy metal.

"Uhng…" I grumbled, clutching my head. The aforementioned bland colors gave the most violent spin so far and before I could realize what was happening, I was flailing through the air.

Okay, not through the air, but close enough.

With a grunt, some sexy blond boy slipped his arm behind my waist and held me upright. I stayed safely on the chair.

Draco. His name was Draco Malfoy, and I hated him.

"I'm fine, Drac—" I hiccupped. "I'm fine," I tried again, embarrassed. I never admitted defeat, especially not with him. "I can keep…"

Shit. I was about to vomit. I could feel the contents of my stomach spin uncontrollably, about to surge up towards my mouth.

Somehow, I managed to stumble off the chair. Gripping the counter table, I made my way towards something I hoped was the door. From what I could recollect in this hazy state, I was pretty sure that was the back door, the one that led to the brick wall that in turn led to…

Oops. Too much thinking. With a little gasp, I felt the ground come rushing up to meet me. This was going to hurt.

But then it didn't. I giggled as I felt strong arms engulf me and hold me somewhat upright. My urge to vomit had somehow disappeared.

"Let's get you out of here, Fawn," a familiar voice sighed, pulling me back towards the counter. "Honestly, you're making quite a scene."

Oh. So the Leaky Cauldron was quiet, not loud. Hmm.

Someone tipped a glass of something towards me, and I took a tentative sip. Water. Mm. Never in my life had water tasted so good.

"_Claro_!" Someone else muttered. And just like that, my head cleared a bit: enough for me to take in my surroundings.

As the colors halted a little, I realized that I had been leaning heavily against both the counter and a certain Draco Malfoy. The other customers in the restaurant were crowded worriedly around me, and the bartender was just fixing another glass of water for me to drink. He returned hastily, and Draco accepted the cup for me after he realized that my hand was shaking too much. He tilted the glass of water towards me.

I drank it.

I managed to straighten my body up, but the minute I tried taking a step, all the colors and the confusion came spinning back. I swore under my breath and gave up, leaning into Draco.

Which proves just how drunk I still was, seeing as I would never have done that if I had been completely clearheaded.

"Good," he snarled, realizing that I was a bit more clear-headed now. "Now I don't have to babysit you all night, you stupid girl." He sat me down on one of the stools and, after making sure that I would stay on that chair, turned his back and walked away, towards the front door.

I stared at his (rather fit) back in disbelief. Sure, we might have been archenemies, but he was… he was _abandoning _me when I needed his help!

"Are you quite alright?" The man in the striped suit I had seen previously lingered to give a lecture as the other customers, seeing as there was nothing else that could be done, slowly faded away to their original seats.

"I'm fine, thanks." I choked out. My throat felt gritty and swollen. "I don't know how I managed to get this drunk, since I only drank a few butter beers."

"Five glasses exactly, Miss Saffron." The barman piped up from behind the counter. "And very diluted too—I was rather worried for you."

"Well, I guess it's a lesson learnt, then—" Suddenly, the door burst open. Draco staggered backwards, as he had just managed to reach the door. "What the bloody—" He began to yell before he cut himself off by throwing himself to the floor, effectively ducking from a spell that had been thrown carelessly at him.

The man was dressed entirely in a pitch-black robe that faded into smoke at the hems and at the sleeves. His face was covered by a mask. The moment he stepped away from the door, three more similarly dressed men stepped into the pub.

"That's Malfoy's boy, Yaxley," one of the men whispered to the first man.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" Yaxley barked in response, swinging his wand around and pointing it at the man in the striped suit—the only man who was still standing in the pub. As he waved his wand, the sleeve flipped upwards, revealing a glowing Dark Mark on his left forearm.

"No!" I gasped out, realizing belatedly exactly who those men were. The man in the striped suit fell to the ground with a scream; a scream that was echoed by all the other customers as they began to run for cover.

_Bang! Bang! _A few more flashes of light came from the Death Eaters and within seconds the place was in chaos. The paint from the ceiling came breaking off and fluttering down like some sort of sick confetti—somewhere a chair was flipped over, and to the right, the cabinet carrying the glasses had shattered into a million deadly pieces.

And before I knew it, a wand with a glowing green tip was pointed directly at me. Me, sixteen-year-old girl frozen in the middle of the room, sitting on a counter stool with her wand still in her pocket.

And everyone knows what green meant. I gritted my teeth, willing myself to come up with a wordless spell of protection since my wand was of no use. I will not die like this—I will not die like my parents did.

"Wait!"

The screams had stopped, and time seemed to hang in place. Draco. He had pulled himself off the floor and was currently holding his arms out in a gesture of peace. He was also covered in dust.

"What, Draco?" The man sighed. He was clearly impatient and annoyed, but was, for the moment, still tolerant of one of his fallen comrades' son.

"Let me just collect my good mate here—we'll get out of your way, Yaxley." He said this in a rush as he slowly made his way towards me, still holding his arms out a little bit. "Okay, mate? Not this one."

"Ooh," one of the three backup death eaters teased him. "You two got somethin' goin' on, Malfoy? Fallin' in _love, _are we now?"

"No." Draco said firmly, pulling himself up to his full height, suddenly regaining his composure. The steely, authoritative stare was back in his grey orbs. "She's a classmate of mine. And I'm pretty sure _you _aren't in any position to put me down, Avery."

Yaxley scoffed before he strode off, heading straight past me, and blast the back door open. "You Malfoys have to get your shit together," he called condescendingly over his shoulder. Chuckling, the other three men followed him through the back door, and towards Diagon Alley.

**So, here's the first chapter! Did you like it? Hate it? Or maybe you're stroking your beard like Confucius and thinking that this might have potential? Tell me what your reaction is, and leave a review, please!**

**Until next time!**

**~Nightingalelynx.**


	2. Damage Control

**Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, shape or form, own Harry Potter. Obviously.**

**Author's Note:**

Ah, school sucks. I haven't done most of my homework, but they're easy stuff, and I consider this a much higher priority, anyway. And hey! Draco has a soft side in this chapter! Haha! Anyway, here's the next chapter! Enjoy!

_In which Fawn faces a terrifying visual of her worst fears._

**Damage Control**

Everyone stayed in hiding, afraid that this was a fluke.

"Where do you live?" Draco asked me gruffly, hauling me to my feet and dragging me towards the fireplace.

"I'm not telling," I replied, still in shock. It was my standard response to that sort of question, and right now, all I wanted was some normality. All I could see was the man in the striped suit—the man who had been alive a few minutes ago—the man who had been alive enough to ask me if I was alright. Now, he was lying on a dusty floor, pale, motionless.

"Tell me, goddammit!" Draco shouted, making the customers around us flinch. He was, in their mind, one of them, after all. He grabbed my shoulders and gave me a shake. "I can't get you home otherwise!"

"My home is very well-protected, the Floo-network won't get you in." It was true. And it didn't tell him too much about where I lived. And Merlin bless that man—I had never even gotten his name.

"We _need _to get out of here, you understand? They won't spare you twice!"

"We need to help these people." I blurted.

He let go of me in frustration and ran his fingers through his tousled, dusty hair. "What part of _danger _do you not understand? You know, I should just leave you here. Get home yourself."

"What part of selflessnessdo _you_ not understand?" I argued back, staggering over and helping the bartender out from under a flipped over table. "You know what? Just leave, Draco. I'll get myself home." Good thing I hadn't told him where I lived before, because I would be regretting it immensely now.

"What are you doing?" It was not a question. It was a demand.

"Damage control," I replied coldly.

"_Episkey,_" I added, pointing my wand at a man whose back had been broken by the falling pieces of brick that had once been part of the ceiling. With a grunt as thanks, he stood up, and went to collect his wife who had been crouched in one corner of the room. Without further hesitation the two disapparated from the Leaky Cauldron.

"See? Even they know when to run." Draco called from the fireplace, arms folded stubbornly.

"And they wouldn't have been able to run had I not helped them first." I snapped back, still moving from person to person. It was true, people were disapparating here and there, but a few others stayed to help. There were still others selfless enough to take the risk.

"Well, you've helped your conscience," Draco said again after a while. "_Now _can we go?" He quickly '_accio'ed _our shopping bags and caught them deftly with his hands.

"Go where?" I mumbled, backing away from the damage. Mostly everyone was up on their feet now, and those who weren't were being helped out by others. My job was pretty much done.

My mourning process for the fallen wasn't done yet, though.

"Malfoy Manor." He replied, grabbing my hand forcefully. The world distorted around me, and in a flash, I was standing on the steps of a large grey mansion. The heavy oak door stared me in the face. I staggered backwards.

"No!" I snapped, jerking my hand back from his harsh grasp in shock. I thought of disapparating elsewhere but—I realized that I hadn't learnt how to apparate yet. "Wait… how did you…"

"Stupid question." Draco sneered at me before dragging me through the now open door. A wide-eyed house-elf peered out from behind the door, regarding me with a creepy (but also kind of cute) amount of interest.

"Err… Hi?" I told her hesitantly, taking in the pillowcase she was wearing. This wasn't Dobby. I flinched a little as I passed through the grey smoky screen: but nothing happened. Probably thanks to Malfoy's hand on my arm. "Thank you for letting us in. What's your name?"

"Her name is Winky, and don't waste your time talking to her like that." Draco answered rudely before the poor house-elf had a chance to. "Creatures like that aren't worth the effort. And Winky! I'm skipping dinner. I'm not hungry. Prepare a room for our guest. Then—scram!"

Before I had a chance to apologize for Draco, Winky had disappeared.

"Why do you talk to people like that?" I asked indignantly, scurrying to keep up with the Malfoy's long, smooth strides. And then I realized that was yet another stupid question. "Why didn't you even ask me whether or not I wanted to go to your house first before dragging me here with some use of _illegal _magic? It's against the rules, remember?"

"Who cares?" Draco replied offhandedly, marching me up the grand staircase before I even had a chance to take in my surroundings. A large glass chandelier hung on the ceiling. Everything else was grey. Yet, it wasn't as dark and desolate as I thought it would have been: Malfoy Manor still had a supply of healthy sunlight streaming through the windows.

Although I really didn't appreciate the way he shoved me up the stairs. I'm an acceptably talented witch, not his freaking doormat. "Let go of me, for goodness' sake!"

He did. "Your room's the second one to the right, right across from mine." He drawled, releasing me with yet another rough shove. He turned to head back down the stairs. "I'm going to get some dinner."

"But you just said to Winky that you weren't hungry!"

"Well, I wasn't aware that it's illegal to change my mind." He called back, taking on his trademark sarcastic tone and smirk.

I rolled my eyes, too weary to come up with a retort. I padded my way down the eerily bright hallway—wasn't Malfoy Manor supposed to look like some kind of dungeon? —and finally reached the door to what was supposed to be my room.

I hesitated. Would something jump out at me if I opened the door? What if all this was some sort of sick joke? Suddenly, the look on Draco's face when he came between that death eater and me flashed in my head. He deserves this bit of trust from me, I thought.

I pushed the door open.

The room was surprisingly luxurious. A four-poster bed was covered by a shocking amount of bloated pillows. A canopy floated above the bed, draping a mist of wispy, white-tinted cloth over the whole bed, like translucent curtains. The walls were a light, fairy-tale blue. A vanity sat in the corner, next to the huge window that stretched from the ceiling to the floor. There was a door in the middle of the expanse of glass, and it led to a balcony.

Definitely not what I expected of Malfoy Manor.

Forgetting about my trauma for a moment, I dropped my shopping bags and flounced over to the bed and sat down gingerly. Of their own accord, my fingers drifted over the soft blue of the blankets. It was so, so soft.

Would Malfoy's hair be that soft if I ran my fingers through it?

Nah. It would probably be as coarse as a pig's nostril hair.

It doesn't look like it, though. It looks like it would be soft like… silk.

But it's Malfoy. Nothing about him is _soft_.

Why the hell was I thinking about Malfoy's hair!? I thought suddenly, realizing the exact subject of my train of thought. Maybe it's the shock. Either way, I wasn't about to spend one more second thinking about Draco's _hair _of all things.

My whole body felt leaden all of a sudden, as if something was dragging me down and sucking all the energy out of me. I shrugged off my dusty, dirty clothes that still smelled like butter beer and fell backwards onto the welcoming bed in my underclothes.

My muscles ached. Especially my lower back, for some reason. Reaching back, I kneaded the taut muscle to the best of my ability through the thin tank-top I wore as an undershirt. The spot was sore, and when I kneaded it, it ached. But it was the good kind of aching, like rubbing an old bruise.

I sighed.

"Well then, what do we have here?" The unmistakable drawl of Draco Malfoy drifted through the fog of perfectness around me. His footsteps came slowly, one by one as he closed the distance between us. Ugh. Just perfect.

I tilted my head to look at him. There it was: that indecency in his silver grey eyes. He was thinking something particularly bad at this moment, as he prowled towards me, eyes wandering. And given my state of undress, it wasn't hard to guess what he was thinking of. I couldn't help but smile a little at his predictability, even though this situation was pretty embarrassing.

He faltered, stuttering to a halt a few feet away from me. His eyes flickered towards my face—and stayed there. There it was again. That tectonic plates shifting look that softened his sharp Malfoy features and made him Draco.

I sat up and blinked at him. Since when had I gotten so poetic?

"Well? Are you going to leave and let me get dressed, or what?" I said mildly after an awkward pause.

"Or what." He shot back (as expected), but his tone of voice was just as mild as mine. But just the same, he turned his back and closed the door behind him. "By the way, dinner is served."

I stayed sitting, blinking. I wasn't sure what to think—would he pop back into the room, cackling with laughter at my shock? Was this some kind of joke? Or was it… some kind of dream?

A loud crack broke through my reverie, and I jolted upright, half expecting Draco or even death eaters to appear. Instead, it was Winky. I breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing her, and gave her a little smile.

"Fresh clothes for you miss!" The little house-elf held out a bundle of muggle clothes that were around my size. I took them gratefully, wondering if Malfoy had ordered her to get these for me.

"Thanks, Winky." The clothes were obviously freshly washed, but there was this lingering scent of sunscreen mixed with that unique smell of old things. These were someone else's clothes—someone long gone.

Awkward.

Hurriedly, I put those clothes on in case Draco changed his mind and decided to barge in again. The smell of oldness wasn't unpleasant at all, and I rather liked the smell of sunscreen, but to know that I was wearing someone else's clothes made me wrinkle my nose a little.

I descended the stairs two steps at a time, and Winky led the way through the house towards the dining wing. Halfway there, Winky gathered enough courage to make conversation with me.

"Miss… if you do not mind me saying…" Winky was clearly afraid of a scolding or even a beating from me, a 'friend' of her master's, yet there was something she wanted desperately to say to me.

"Yes, go on?" I prodded gently, heart melting for the poor, mistreated house-elf.

Hesitant relief spread over her wide-eyed stare. "It's just… for a _mermaid, _you seem more like a bird than a siren." At the word 'mermaid', Winky lowered her voice to a hush.

I froze. "How did you know that?" I demanded sharply, wincing when I saw the terror in Winky's eyes. "I'm sorry, it's just... surprising. I never told anyone."

"It's a secret, so naturally, everyone knows." Winky replied, accepting my apology graciously. "At least among the… the purebloods." She shuddered at the word. "They know everything. They knew your father. They knew your mother."

"They killed my mother! And my father!" I snapped back, forgetting where I was for an instant.

"I'm sorry for that miss. All I wanted to say, Miss Saffron, is that you don't fulfill the expectations of a half-siren. I've met those like you before but they were all very… mysterious and dark. And graceful. Not that you're not graceful—you're graceful as a bird in flight, not like… not like a jaguar." She struggled to make me understand.

I did. I knew I was a disappointment to my half-siren genes. I couldn't help it—I was just more _human _than mermaid, you know? And I hated fish. Gross, slimy things. Tasted horrible the only time I tried it, too.

"Thanks, Winky." I called over my shoulder as I stepped into the dining hall. There was yet another chandelier hanging on the ceiling. The walls were painted red, and the dark wood color of the red-cushioned seats contrasted greatly against it. The heavy oak table was big enough to seat ten people at least, but it was completely empty. Save for the seat at the head of the table, which had been taken by Draco.

His head snapped up when I walked in.

"I told you not to be so kind to house-elves like her!" He scolded me as I plopped myself down (very ungracefully) on the seat next to him. Then, the asshole took in what I was wearing, and stiffened.

"Did Winky get you those clothes?" His eyes were steel.

"No." I lied smoothly, covering for the poor elf. "I stumbled upon it myself. Why do you ask, Malfoy?"

"Those were my aunt's clothes." He replied curtly, avoiding all eye contact now and glaring at his food.

"What, Bellatrix's?" I gasped, feeling disgust cling to my skin wherever the clothes touched me. No way in hell would I wear anything of _Bellatrix's_. The damned woman had killed Sirius! She was Voldemort's right hand woman! His best lieutenant!

Malfoy sensed my panic. "No," he cut in hastily, shaking his head a little. "Not her. My other aunt. Andromeda? You might have heard of her. Your friend… the one married to that wretched werewolf? Yeah. That's her daughter. It's her room you're staying in."

"Oh." I didn't even bother to scold Malfoy about calling Professor Lupin a 'damned werewolf'. All I felt was relief that I wasn't currently clothed in that madwoman's old clothes.

"Andromeda… I've heard of her. She was a good person, wasn't she?" By 'good', I meant that she was on our side.

"She betrayed our family name by marrying that muggle," Draco replied.

"No, she didn't! She was open-minded, and she fell in love. It's awfully romantic," I argued back, looking down on my food for the first time. Steak, with peas and mashed potatoes at the side. Plus a cup of pumpkin juice.

Draco never bothered to reply.

Night fell, and I stared at the light blue ceiling (or what I could see of it through the canopy), finally able to mourn the people who had fallen today at the Leaky Cauldron. So many people, so many innocent lives. And I had sat frozen on that damned stool—unable to even lift my wand to help due to my drunken state. Oh, I had sobered up the moment the green tipped wand had pointed at me, all right. But it had been too late. I could almost imagine tomorrow's headlines.

**Deaths in the Leaky Cauldron After Death Eater Attack! **

**Six People Killed After Attack!**

Or maybe: **Attack on Diagon Alley!**

_Or even… "__**A Malfoy Involved In Death Eater Attack",**_a little voice whispered in my head. I wasn't quite sure why that worried me so much—why did I care about Draco's reputation?

I bolted upright suddenly, and the world began to spin, just like it had in the Leaky Cauldron. A green-tipped wand was pointing directly at me. I could feel its deadly, nucleonic warmth burning directly in the middle of my chest. And on my forehead.

Dead bodies lay around me, staining, tainting this ridiculous room where baby blue colors dominated. Its light, carefree colors made the dead bodies look so out of place. However, that little artistic mismatch was wiped away from my thoughts when I spotted my parents lying on the floor.

"No!" I shrieked, launching myself at them. But I couldn't move. Not with the dreaded green-tipped wand pointing at me. "No!" I screamed again, willing every fiber in my body to move. But I couldn't. I was stuck there—just like I had been stuck today at the Leaky Cauldron. "No, no, no! Mommy! Daddy!"

Tears blurred my vision, and the pool of dark maroon blood that pooled around their bodies blended in grotesquely with the light blue of the floors. "No! No! No!" They began to fade.

I tried to glare up at the holder of the green-tipped wand, but I couldn't quite see past the green glow. The glow began to brighten, and expand, and soon it was shooting straight towards me as I sat frozen.

And then suddenly, the bed tipped sideways, and I scrambled, grabbing at everything I could to prevent myself from falling into the great, black abyss beneath me. The wind rushed past me, screaming its lungs out.

My two greatest fears. Heights… and death.

"No!" I gave one last shrill, defiant shriek, clawing desperately for a handhold.

"Shut up!" Someone yelled back.

I blinked. I bolted upright. Wait—hadn't I already bolted upright? My mind was a swirl of confusion as I tried to differentiate reality from… the dream I had been having. In the meantime, I drank in the sights before me.

Light, pleasant blue everywhere.

Fairy-tale like canopy.

A platinum haired boy with his heart-wrenchingly familiar grimace, leaning over me. Tufts of his hair fell before his wide, silvery orbs.

The solid, firm ground beneath me.

I wasn't about to be killed.

"Oh, shit," I groaned, still clutching the sheets so hard my hands were getting numb. "Nightmare."

"I kind of fucking figured, okay? You woke the whole bloody house up." The platinum haired boy snarled, batting a few wisps of the translucent canopy away from his face barbarically. It would have been funny if the green glow of the wand wasn't still hidden behind my eyelids every time I blinked.

"There's no one except you and me in this 'whole bloody house', Draco," I hissed back, clutching the blankets to my chest. I hadn't even realized I had fallen asleep.

See, the thing about me is that I don't fall asleep slowly, then all at once. For me? One moment I'm awake, and then the next I'm plunged headlong into the dark, unconscious blindness.

My dreams are vivid. But when I wake up, it's so much better. I don't care how vivid or even sweet good dreams can be. It's not worth the risk of a nightmare.

_Kind of how you're like in the subject of love, _a little voice whispered to me.

I ignored it and stared desperately at Malfoy. I didn't care that I looked like a mess—with him, I never cared. He was the exception, seeing as I usually cared so much about what others thought of me. "Why did you save me?" My voice didn't come out as demanding as I wanted it to be.

It was cracked and raspy and soft. And desperate.

He had heard it, I was sure. But he didn't answer. Instead, his grey eyes stared into mine as he ran a long, pale finger down my cheek, tracing the path of something wet.

Tears.

I had been crying. I hated crying in front of others.

But in the face of his proximity, of his intense, burning grey eyes, I found myself thinking of something else entirely.

Something indecent.

With a sudden movement, Draco ripped the sheets away from my body and crawled in next to me.

"What are you doing?" I asked, a little scandalized but not able to stop the little tingle that ran up my spine as his warmth wrapped around mine. He was attractive, that was for sure. They didn't call him a 'Slytherin Prince' for no reason, after all.

He paused, shuffling a bit to make the both of us comfortable. We lay on our backs, side by side, staring up at that pale blue. His pale lips twisted up into a little smirk. Somehow, that sight (at the peripheral of my vision—I was _not _staring at him) relaxed me. That was normal. That was reassuring.

Just before I thought he had completely fallen asleep, he whispered his answer to the question I had blurted out. His words drifted above us, among the happy-ever-after bright white canopies.

"I'm doing damage control," he murmured, mimicking my words from before. He sounded as if he was trying to sooth me, and it worked. Consider me soothed, I thought wryly, feeling the beginnings of a little smile grow on my cheeks.

I plunged into the unknown, in more ways than one.

**You should love me for getting this chapter up so fast. But I completely understand if you love Draco Malfoy more than me. Don't worry, I won't tell. Anyway, this was a little filler chapter. They just sort of **_**realize **_**at the corner of their minds, but they don't fall in love. Yet. ;)**

**As always, review, please! It would mean a lot to me.**

**Until next time!**

**~Nightingalelynx**


	3. Clarity

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling, not me. That's why this is called a fanfiction, not a novel.**

**Author's Note:**

Hey again, guys! This chapter, I'm doing something a little different—this is going to be in the point of view of Narcissa and also a little bit of Draco, not Fawn. Fawn is not really a very reliable narrator when it comes to herself, and this way we can see a bit of how others see Fawn as well as a bit of her background.

Also, the chapter title refers to the song Clarity, by Zedd. (The chapter title of chapter 2 refers to the song Damage Control by the Lazy Rich).

_In which Narcissa Malfoy talks too much, and realizes too much. In the meantime, Draco learns about Fawn's past._

**Clarity**

Narcissa Malfoy's footsteps clacked down the hallway, lost in her thoughts. Her pitch black robes hung heavily on her body, clinging to her skin. There was a faint sheen of sweat still glowing on her face. The woman was exhausted, but elated at the same time. She had just been to visit Severus Snape, where he had sworn to the Unbreakable Oath.

He would protect her son to the best of his ability. And that man had plenty of ability to do just that. It was all up to her son now—and Narcissa had plenty of faith in her son. The future was looking brighter for her son than it had looked a day ago.

Speaking of whom, where was he? Narcissa wondered, sensing only the sprawling mansion around her. Where was her son? She snapped her fingers. "Winky!" She called, click-clacking down the hallway faster now.

"Yes, Mistress Malfoy?" The house-elf appeared abruptly, head bowed respectfully.

"Where's my son?"

The elf's wide eyes widened even more, and she quickly averted her eyes. "Um…"

Narcissa looked closer. Was that a faint blush growing on the house-elf's grey skin? A blush. What the hell?

"Where is my _son, Winky?_" Narcissa's voice grew louder as she spoke, her tone frighteningly sharp.

"Young Master Malfoy… he's… he's got a guest." Winky shuffled awkwardly, avoiding Narcissa's gaze.

"You've _got_ to be joking." Narcissa resisted the urge to slap a palm against her face. Here she was, running errands and begging for help from others just to help her son, and he _fools around with girls _while she was gone? How irresponsible of him!

She glided up the stairs, too refined to stomp up the stairs, even though by Merlin's beard she wanted to make a ruckus in her annoyance. That ungrateful, reckless, arrogant boy! Just like his father!

As soon as she got to the second floor, she noticed that the door to the room diagonal from her son's room was just slightly ajar. Huffing and muttering under her breath, the renowned Mrs. Malfoy headed straight towards the open door, determined to humiliate her son's company as much as she could.

But when her high-heels took a tentative step into the room—Andromeda's old room, she realized—there were no clothes lying about. Nothing scandalous at all. Just two people, wrapped up in slumber, drifting among those white canopies that Andrie used to love.

A brief pang of nostalgia and perhaps even a little sadness caused Narcissa to draw in a sharp breath. Perhaps she should remove those canopies. Perhaps she should remove this entire room. Why she had kept Andromeda's old things were beyond her.

Suddenly, Draco rolled over, so that his face was no longer blocking the girl's face. Oh, there was no doubt about it—nothing inappropriate had gone on in this room—but why in the name of Merlin were they _sleeping _together? Honest-to-Merlin _sleeping_? Narcissa was no idiot, she knew her son didn't do '_love_', but why else would this sort of arrangement have happened?

Narcissa had never felt more confused, so she did what came naturally to her—she tiptoed closer to the bed to get a better look at the girl's face. Who was it that could lure her son into bed without using his hormones?

There were thin streaks of dried tears on the girl's face, a tiny trail of drool had rolled out from the corner of the girl's mouth, and her hair was a mess. But there was no doubt about the natural beauty this girl possessed—it was almost otherworldly.

Otherworldly. Something registered faintly in Narcissa's brain, and she leaned in closer for a better look, just to be sure. There was no denying the fact that she knew just what this girl was, but somehow, Narcissa felt this pull towards this girl, to be closer to her.

Smooth, faintly bronzed skin. A perfect button nose. A delicately curved mouth that shaped itself into a little pout. High, defined cheekbones, softened by subtly arched eyebrows. Dark gold hair, so dark it was pretty much brown, yet there was something incredibly wrong about describing this girl's hair as brown.

Her hair was simply too bejeweled to be described as just 'brown.'

_She _was simply too exquisite to be described at all. A creature like _her _should be protected, should be welcomed with open arms, should be cherished.

Narcissa jerked backwards, pulling herself out of the trace, breathing heavily. A creature. That was what this girl was. And oh, Narcissa recognized her, all right. The mix between a pureblood line and a more supernatural one.

"Oh Merlin," Narcissa stumbled backwards, wide-eyed, not able to reign in her shock, her downright fear. Her dear, darling Draco had somehow gotten himself lured under the spell of a siren's offspring.

Bright brown eyes fluttered open, staring directly into Narcissa's own, directing a jolt through Narcissa's body. They widened, so earthly brown, and a blush bloomed across the girl's cheeks. Across Fawn Saffron's cheeks.

"I—Mrs. Malfoy! —I'm so sorry, this isn't what it looks like—" She blabbered, growing redder by the minute. Suddenly, she didn't look quite so ethereal. She just looked like a young girl, caught in a boy's bed by his mother.

Draco jerked awake, sitting upright suddenly, flinging the covers off his body. "Mother!" He choked out blearily, stumbling out of the bed and waving his arms around as if to show that he wasn't naked. "You're back! I—I can explain this…"

He didn't offer an explanation.

Narcissa drew herself together. Throwing her son a look that she hoped could pass as stern, Narcissa turned towards the girl. "Clean up a little and join us for breakfast, will you?"

With that, she turned and fled through the door, ignoring the surprised, almost pleased look that spread across her son's usually sullen features.

Narcissa watched as Fawn reached for the glass of pumpkin juice with trembling, clumsy hands. She watched as her son kneaded his forehead and stared detachedly at his food, taking peeks at the girl whenever he thought no one was looking. She watched as the girl did the same as they tried to figure out what to say, what to do, what was going on.

"Mother." Draco said suddenly, clearing his throat and effectively breaking the silence. "What you saw… it wasn't what it looked like."

The girl looked at Narcissa, brown eyes meeting grey ones boldly. Fawn nodded earnestly, giving the most angelic smiles Narcissa had ever seen, but deteriorating the effect a little when she twisted her hands in her lap where she thought Narcissa couldn't see.

"Malf—Draco, he saved me back in Diagon Alley, and so he took me here, and—" Fawn stammered, bravado and confidence fading halfway through. She brushed a golden-brown string of hair back behind her ear.

With a pang, Narcissa realized that Draco's eyes went straight to her hair, like a puppet on taut strings.

Her son cut in quickly, playing it off as being rude by throwing her a contemptuous glare. "The death eaters attacked us when we were at the Leaky Cauldron, but I sent them off. She was drunk, so I had to bring her here. Really, nothing else happened." Draco looked at Narcissa, and suddenly his pale face seemed greyer.

And just like that, Narcissa was reminded of her darling son's assignment, which was also their family's punishment. Poor, _poor _Draco, she thought, counting every new line that had grown on Draco's forehead.

Realizing Draco and Fawn were still waiting for an answer, Narcissa sighed. "I never doubted you two. Please," she smiled and waved her hand across the table. "Help yourself, dear."

Fawn realized half a second later that Narcissa had, in fact, been addressing her. She stretched her hand over the table, awkwardly avoiding the objects along the way. "My name is Fawn, Ms. Malfoy. Fawn Saffron."

Narcissa shook the girl's hand, feeling its smooth, firmness.

"Draco," Narcissa said abruptly, after a polite pause. "May I speak to you in the other room for a moment, darling?"

Draco pushed his chair back with a loud scrape and stood up.

"Look, if you're going to berate me for bring a girl home, Mother…" Draco began curtly once outside, sounding detached and even a little superior.

"No." Narcissa shot back, interrupting her incorrigible, darling son. "I'm not. I'm just wondering whether you know where she came from."

Draco perked up with interest, not even bothered to hide his intrigue. As Narcissa expected, Fawn had kept her mermaid background a secret. "Look, Draco." She murmured urgently, lowering her voice a few notches. "She's harmless. I know she is—just look at her! She's more human than mermaid, for sure, but—"

"Mermaid!?" Grey eyes widened like saucers, and Narcissa was reminded of a time when, ages ago, telling him that he was allowed to have half a box of Every Flavor Beans after dinner produced this kind of reaction.

"Yes. Her mother was a pureblood siren—one of the originals—from Greece. The warmer the water, the more beautiful the sirens are. Her father had been on some sort of business trip, and she lured him into the water. But for some reason, she didn't kill him. Instead, she stepped out of the water, which—"

"Turned her into a human." Draco interrupted brusquely, remembering his lessons on merpeople. "But where are they now? And who was the father?"

Narcissa swallowed, fanning her face with a pale hand, not knowing why she was reluctant to say this. "They're dead, Draco. They've been dead for seven years." She purposefully avoided speaking about the father.

Draco absorbed this information, wheels turning in those grey orbs of his. "So… who does she live with?" He asked, his voice softer now.

"I'm pretty sure Fawn lives in Hogwarts now, as Dumbledore's—" Here, Narcissa flinched sharply, as did Draco. "Fawn's his ward, I suppose." She continued hastily, before realizing that that probably wasn't a smart thing to say either.

Because Draco was going to have to kill the man who had taken Fawn under his wing. And Narcissa was pretty sure that there was somethingbetween her son and this bright-eyed girl.

That naked truth hung in the air for a moment.

"Well, she's a Gryffindor and I hate her, so you don't have to worry about…" About what? Draco asked himself, grasping at straws for something to say. "About me feeling sorry for her."

He turned and walked back through the doors, not giving his mother a second thought. He didn't know why, but he was more annoyed at his mother than he was usually.

Fawn was noticeably absent from the chair she had been sitting in a few moments ago, and a sudden spike of panic rammed into Draco, thinking she had overheard. But no, she was just sitting cross-legged next to the floor length window, staring off into space. Her sleek head turned as he sat down across from her.

_It was funny,_ Draco thought as he studied her wordlessly for a brief moment, _that every boy in school look at her like she's some kind of saint, some kind of angel. _She wasn't. She's a freak of nature, a cross between two breeds that should never have mated.

Draco turned away coldly from her inquisitive stare, unsettled by its beauty. Siren-like beauty.

The shutters went down over her bright brown eyes. There it was again—that familiar challenging, wary glare that had marked them rivals since their first year at Hogwarts. The way everything should be.

"So, school tomorrow, Malfoy," Fawn said softly, still looking at him, but with more animosity and reluctance than she had before. "Are you excited?"

_No. _Draco shook his head, keeping his eyes on her crystal clear reflection in the window. "Hogwarts is a sorry excuse for a school," he began monotonously, reciting his usual response. Then he stopped, realizing that he was trashing her home.

"Why?" The honey-brown haired girl demanded, suddenly a looking like little fireball. "What's so bad about Hogwarts?"

Draco felt a wave or relief, making him realize that he had been tense. In all honesty, her sweetness had creeped him out. Sure, Fawn was a sweet little angel—but only with adults and fellow peers. With Draco and the other Slytherins, she was hot tempered, clever, and sharp tongued.

"I'm destined for greater things," he replied, and a wave of memories washed into his brain. The Dark Lord's slitted red eyes, his father's sunken face, searing pain he felt with the Dark Lord's wand touched his arm.

Great things? Yeah. Right.

"So, you're leaving today, right? Going home to pack up whatever belongings you have—" here, Draco gave his hand a little dismissive wave—" and then heading to Kings Cross tomorrow?"

"I'd like to stay, if that's okay with you." Fawn asked, sounding embarrassed and defiant all at the same time.

"Why? Where do you live?" Draco challenged, looking directly at her. Would she tell him the truth after he'd saved her life? Probably not, but worth a try, right?

Fawn bit her lower lip, and it took all of Draco's will not to look. Draco had been in The Trance (as he had named it) many times before, and he knew just how beautiful she could be to unsuspecting eyes. But that had always felt like a veil, a dream, to Draco—not the real thing.

The real thing was pretty, too, but more grounded. More human, with human emotions and human clumsiness and who made human mistakes. Somehow, that was more appealing to him.

"I like it here," Fawn said finally, slouching a little as if to demonstrate Draco's earlier thoughts.

"Then stay. We'll take you to Kings Cross Station tomorrow." Draco stood up, and dusted the dust off his pants. Why she had chosen to sit here was beyond him. "But don't go poking around in my things, goat."

He paused. He knew that was incredibly unoriginal of him, a pathetic attempt at nicknaming her. But for the life of him, he couldn't come up with another one.

"Look, if you're going to nickname me, _Drakey_, think of something better, will you?" Fawn gave him a mocking smile, seeing right through him like she'd always had.

"Who are _you _to mock me, Saffron?" Draco let the familiar traces of a smirk curl his lips upwards. "If I remember correctly, you were the one who _begged _to have me in your bed last night."

She turned a delightful shade of pink, and snapped back: "Because I was having a nightmare, you jerk! And you're the one who kidnapped me to this place."

Biting back a retort that would have went somewhere along the lines of "well, you wanted to stay," Draco smirked instead. "You know, I sort of did collect what I asked for when we made that drinking bet. The one that you lost, of course. Just not in the context I was hoping for."

She scowled and turned her back on him sullenly, hiding a smile.

Suddenly, Draco realized that they got along the best when they were teasing each other, fighting with each other. In another world, they could have been the best of friends.

And in a moment of clarity, the youngest Malfoy thought: _to hell with another world. This is my life, not Voldemort's. I'll choose my own friends, right here, right now._

**Aww, isn't that sweet! This is sort of a filler chapter, which is why it's so short.**

**Also, this chapter was meant to show just how quickly Fawn knocks down Draco's defenses—I mean, at the end of the chapter he's already thinking that he wants to be friends with her, even though he knows she's a "freak of nature" and a Gryffindor as well as Dumbledore's ward.**

**But sadly, a bit more hostility is coming up in the next chapter.**

**Hope you enjoyed it! **

**~Nightingalynx**


	4. Hurry Up and Save Me

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story, except Fawn! :)**

**Author's Note:**

Yes, I'm aware that this is in third person—a_gain_. It'll be back to Fawn's perspective next chapter! :) This chapter, the song to listen to is "Hurry Up and Save Me" by Tiffany Giardina. I realize it's a little off topic, but basically this chapter is about… saving people, I guess.

_In which Fawn unknowingly angers Draco, and there's a confrontation on the Hogwarts Express._

**Hurry Up and Save Me**

On Sunday afternoon, a beautiful trio trudged sluggishly into Kings Cross Station. There was Draco and his mother, with their platinum blond hair and charming good looks, and there was Fawn, the honey-haired beauty.

Naturally, modeling agencies—_muggle _modeling agencies—came rushing up, not deterred by the strange owls and whatnot they were carrying.

This delayed their entry into platform 9 ¾, because obviously they couldn't disappear into the crowd. In the end, Narcissa subtly cast a few confundus charms, finally allowing them to slip by undetected.

What surprised Fawn the most, though, was the fact that Draco managed not to spit in their faces, which was what Draco usually did when dealing with Muggles, even though he did flinch each time someone brushed against him. Maybe he really had changed for the better in the midst of this brewing war.

And oh, those Muggles. They fascinated Fawn. She'd met a few Muggles before, but not so many of them, crowded into one place. She trailed behind the Malfoys, bright eyes wide with wonder and shock, holding only her shopping from Diagon Alley (the rest of her things were in Hogwarts, where she lived full-time).

She tried touching those brick arches, but the maroon red bricks didn't move. And the children were just like the first years at Hogwarts, just as intelligent, just as playful, just as delightful. She accepted something that looked a bit like ice cream from a vendor, but tasted slightly different—slightly less creamier, a little more sour.

She loved it. Apparently, it was called _sorbet._

She didn't notice Draco sighing and slipping the vendor some Muggle money after she had left.

When they were finally free to go into platform 9 ¾, Fawn was rather disappointed. Her mouth set into an unconscious little pout, which sent shivers up Draco's spine.

"Had a good time?" Draco remarked snidely.

"I always have a good time at Kings Cross Station," Fawn lied back smoothly. Unfortunately, Draco already knew the truth. She'd never been to Kings Cross.

Draco just smirked back as they made their way through the wizarding crowd towards the Hogwarts Express. It sat on its tracks, puffing steam out of a great red pipe, looking medieval and absolutely brilliant, as always.

But the people around them had changed. Some of them openly snarled at the Malfoys, while others gathered up their children and avoided eye contact at all costs. But all of them scattered out of their way. Platform 9 ¾ was no longer the bustling, happy station it had once been.

Draco was drinking this all up. He felt powerful as he marched purposefully towards the train. He glanced back at Fawn. This time, her head was down, and she looked sad.

What now? Draco thought, irritated that his good mood was so abruptly ruined. Suddenly, Fawn's head snapped up. She looked straight past him, at a boy with disheveled black hair, standing with a family of redheads.

_Potter._ The Dark Lord's number one enemy, and therefore Draco's number one obstacle to his task. He felt his face darken into a scowl.

On the other hand, Fawn just saw her friends. "Harry!" She yelled, a sweet grin lighting up her face. "Ron! Hermione!" She waved her hands around, not really caring that she was currently standing next to two of the shadiest people at the station.

"Fawn!" Fred (or was it George?) Weasley shouted back, his gangly form giving him advantage over Harry and Hermione. Ron, on the other hand, turned around and—damn. He's grown over the summer!

"Whoa, Ron!" Fawn giggled, reaching up to mess with Ron's hair. "You've grown so much this summer!"

"You sound like our mother," Fred replied for Ron, grinning. Then his eyes shifted past Fawn and caught sight of Draco and his mother, standing a little ways back, glaring at the Weasleys.

"Is that—" He began.

"The Malfoys?" George finished.

"Did you come here with them?" Harry inquired, striking green eyes narrowing.

"Yes, actually." Fawn replied, sounding apologetic. Fury burned through Draco's veins. She was being apologetic? Did she forget that she would be _dead _if not for him? And now she had just left him for the traitors, the mudblood, without a second glance?

Giving his mother a quick kiss on the cheek goodbye, Draco stormed onto the train. That filthy freak, that traitor, that ungrateful bitch! He was still shouting curses at her in his mind (not real ones, of course), when he bumped into Pansy Parkinson.

Her dark green eyes widened with exaggerated joy, and she flung her arms around him abruptly. "Drakey!" She cooed in his ear. Suddenly, Draco was reminded of Fawn, who had called him that just yesterday.

"Hello, Pansy," he spat back, brushing her off his lean frame and hauling his luggage past her.

He plopped himself down in one of the Slytherin compartments, not bothered to fight for one of his own. That sort of thing didn't interest him anymore. All of a sudden, he almost felt drained. Tired. He just wanted Pansy to go away.

"I've had the most wonderful summer in Spain, you know, the weather there is—" Pansy began.

"That's great, Pansy, now move."

Blaise Zambini, Goyle, and Crabbe slid into the booth. "Hello, Malfoy," Crabbe chirped in his irritating, girlish tenor.

Draco gave him a curt nod back and stared out of the window. Fawn's luggage was now carried by Ron, who had valiantly offered to carry it onto the train for her. As Weasel disappeared into the train, Fawn hugged the twins a goodbye. Vaguely, Draco remembered that they had graduated last year. Potter was deep in conversation with a certain Ginny Weasley, who had actually grown to become quite attractive—not that Draco would ever tell her that.

Malfoy resisted a smirk—it was so obvious that Potter was into the littlest Weasley, and vice versa. Aw, how cute.

"So, Malfoy, are you excited to return to Hogwarts?" Blaise asked, interrupting Draco's train of thought.

"Hogwarts is a sorry excuse for a school," Malfoy drawled, his mind elsewhere. The train had started to move a while ago, puffing and huffing all the way. Draco's mother had disappeared—she wasn't the type who stayed to wave and blow kisses at him, for which he was grateful.

"I'm glad I won't have to return next year." Draco continued, not really paying attention to what he was saying. His mind was on a certain honey-haired girl.

"What?" Goyle asked dumbly, alerting Draco to what he had let slip. But honestly, why not brag about it? It's not like he'd be alive if he failed.

"I'm destined for great things, things all of you haven't even _dreamed _about." Draco began, a mysterious smile growing on his face. Suddenly, he happened to glance up, and—saw his luggage moving forward a little, seemingly of its own accord. It was all Draco could do to suppress a growl.

Potter, thinking he could spy on him? Well, then. Draco will give him a show of his lifetime.

"Keep going, Drakey," Pansy gushed, poking his arm.

So he did. He kept bragging, subtly praising the Dark Lord and his sure win of this war, subtly hinting at being given a mission, subtly hinting at being the Dark Lord's new favorite.

Before he knew it, the train was pulling into Hogwarts. Potter was still there—he was sure of it. And still thinking that he was _spying _on him. Draco almost laughed.

"You guys go ahead," he ordered the other Slytherins. "I'll stay for a bit."

Like little house-elves, they left, closing the door behind them. The compartment was now empty. Draco drew the blinds in one slow, deliberate movement. Perfect, he calculated in his mind. In one swift movement, Draco pulled his wand out of his pocket and spun around, casting a spell in the place he knew Potter would be.

Something fell to the floor with a thump, now paralyzed.

"Did you really think you could spy on me, _Potter?_" Draco spat, kicking the invisibility cloak out of the way. The boy-who-lived lay frozen, his face a mask of shock, his hand twitching ever so slightly.

"I'm going to make you _pay _for what you did to my father, right here, right now."

There was a knock on the door. Draco ignored it, thinking it would go away, but instead, there was a whispered "_alohomora_", and the door swung open. Draco turned, prepared to chase away the intruder, only to find Fawn standing there, changed into the school skirt and top, with her robe slung over her shoulder. Draco's heart thudded in his chest. This was not good.

"Is—is that Harry?" She asked, her voice going higher pitched as she spoke. Her wand was still out, and Malfoy did what was natural to him: he cast a wordless spell, taking her wand away.

As Fawn's wand landed in Malfoy's outstretched hand, he was surprised at its inflexibility. The wood was relatively unyielding, completely wiping away all stereotypes about a mermaid. However, it made sense. Fawn was a stubborn girl. On the other hand, there was something immensely soft within the wand.

"What's the core material, Saffron?" Draco blurted out before he realized just how stupid that question, in this context, was.

"Let go of him, Malfoy!" Fawn demanded, eyes burning. She stepped into the cabin and didn't flinch when the door drifted shut, even though she was wandless. No wonder she was in Gryffindor.

"Hmm, I'm afraid I can't do that, Saffron. He still has to pay for what he did to my father, my family, our reputation."

"Harry didn't do anything, you jerk! Your father did that to himself! What he did was _wrong, _Draco, why don't you see that?" She argued back, making a beeline to Harry's paralyzed body. Draco let her. She couldn't do anything without a wand.

"Now give me back my wand, Draco. Or we'll all be shipped back to London." She held her palm out, trying to look in control, but she wasn't. Inside, she was panicking. Even Draco could see that. "Please, Draco," she added, as if that would make a difference.

Draco considered briefly. Now that Fawn was here, there was no point in leaving Potter paralyzed. There was a witness, and Draco didn't really want to drag attention to himself this year. If he was put on probation—how was he going to get the Death Eaters into Hogwarts? How would he kill—no. He wasn't going to think about that just yet.

Flinching, Draco tossed Fawn her wand. "Don't hex me, Saffron," he warned wearily, and turned to leave.

"Wait, Draco."

Draco turned around, like a dog on a leash. He hated how responsive he was, but he couldn't help it. He wanted to know what she wanted to tell him.

Fawn was standing up now. Her robe had fell off her shoulder and was laying on the floor in a pile, and Draco could see her outfit clearly.

A red and gold skirt, showing off mile long legs, and a modest little top, a combination that made her look both sultry and innocent. Draco let his eyes linger a little before dragging them back up to her face, which for once was just as attractive as the body, compared to other Slytherin girls.

"I came here to say thank you—for saving my life back in the Leaky Cauldron. And for… everything else. I would have been a mess—or even dead—without you, so… thanks."

Draco gave her a curt nod, not unlike the one he had given to Crabbe earlier and slipped out the door. Once outside, he collected his luggage and jogged off the train, heading towards the gates.

"Who goes there?—Oh, hello Mr. Malfoy," Professor Flitwick called from within the gates, looking not too happy about the platinum haired boy's arrival. He opened the gates. "Why are you smiling?" He added suspiciously.

"I wasn't aware that I was," Draco replied truthfully.

**How was that? Good? Bad? Review please! :)**

**~Nightingalelynx**


	5. Troublemaker

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling does! Note: Fay Dunbar is also one of J.K. Rowling's characters—search her up!**

**Author's Note:**

Yay, it's back to Fawn's POV! The title is 'Troublemaker" by Olly Murs.

_In which Fawn's morning is ruined. In fact, her whole day was quite horrible and was littered with encounters with Malfoy. Poor Fawn._

**Troublemaker**

Something you should know about me is that I get ready in record time. So when I woke up to the bright sunlight streaming through the cracks in the heavy curtain, a sure signal that there were only a few minutes until breakfast, I wasn't too worried.

I was down at the Great Hall in exactly 3 minutes and 15 seconds, leaving a flustered Hermione and Fay behind as they tried to pack their school bags. Evidently, everyone had overslept.

A huge grin was plastered to my face—I had been so sick of Hogwarts during the summer when the hallways were dark and empty and your footsteps echoed. I had explored every corner of Hogwarts in the first two summers I had been here, so there had been nothing to do, either. Now, all my friends were back.

"Hi, Parvati," I grinned as the caramel skinned girl sidled up next to me, matching my long strides. "How was your summer?"

"Bad. Did you hear about what happened to the Muggle bridge?" She asked confidentially, lowering her voice when a few Slytherins walked past.

I sighed. "Of course I heard, it's all over the news. The Death Eaters are back, and everything." Who talks about that sort of thing so early in the morning? I thought sulkily.

"And there was an attack on Diagon Alley—Ollivander is missing." She added, making my heart sink. I pursed my lips and kept quiet, not wanting to relive the experience of the attack. Seriously. Why couldn't I enjoy my good mood for a while longer?

"Ollivander?" I answered evasively. This was news to me, but at the same time, I wasn't surprised. The Death Eaters didn't attack randomly—except for that one fateful time, when my world was turned upside down.

"Yeah. It'll be all over the news, I'll bet."

My heart sank even further down to my stomach. Yeah, I thought sarcastically. I'll bet. I'll even bet that me and Malfoy's face will be plastered all over the front page, with witness accounts. Perfect.

With a polite mumble to Parvati, I ditched her and slid into the seat next to Ginny. I looked straight at the Golden Trio (minus Hermione), and was not surprised when they already looked troubled.

"Harry told us what happened on the train," Ron mumbled, putting down his slice of pie. "What the bloody hell was that? Since when do you _thank _Malfoy?"

I rolled my eyes, remembering what Parvati had just said to me about the newspapers. "Read it in the news. I bet the whole story will be there. For now, I'm hungry, and I have Defense Against the Dark Arts first thing this morning."

Everyone winced. Oh, right. They have class with me.

"Speaking of class, I have Herbology and Charms with you after Defense, but then we split up for the last period—I have History of Magic." Ginny told me, brushing a strand of bright red hair behind her ear. I had apparition during the last period, something I was looking forward to.

"I don't mind the rest of the subjects, just D.A.D.A with Snape. That's the _worst _way to start my day." I sighed, shoving a piece of bacon down my mouth.

Suddenly, a screech sounded from above our heads, and suddenly, the owls were flying in, dropping newspapers, mail, and even some feathers onto our plates. The sound of excited chatter filled the Great Hall immediately.

"Yuck," Ron groaned, picking a tawny beige feather out of his scrambled eggs.

"Here! I've got a copy." Hermione said suddenly, sliding into the seat next to Harry. Her hair was disheveled—clearly, she hadn't brushed it. In her hand, she was waving a copy of the Daily Prophet, with its familiar (and hated) yellow parchment and black and white photographs.

Not even bothering to touch her food, Hermione began to read. "Love in the Face of Death." She said out loud. I let out a loud, exaggerated groan. Now, whatever hope I harbored that maybe, just maybe Malfoy and I wouldn't be mentioned was completely wiped out.

"What a pun," I cut in sarcastically, just to remind my friends not to take it too seriously. Ginny snatched a copy, and, moving it over so I could see too, began to read it.

**Love In the Face of Death, **it said in big bold letters at the top. Right beneath that was a huge, high definition, moving picture of Malfoy and I, in the process of glancing at each other in the middle of Platform 9 ¾.

_On the 24__th__ of June, a tragic and beautiful love story was born between two unlikely candidates. Draco Malfoy, a pureblood Slytherin, and the son of known Death Eater Lucius Malfoy, launched himself valiantly and without a care for himself between Fawn Saffron, a fellow student at Hogwarts, and a man who was set out to kill, witnesses say. Intriguingly, the lovely girl is a Gryffindor orphan with no real ties to society, apart from being a close friend of Harry Potter._

_After saving both himself and the girl, the couple took the Floo network, most likely to Malfoy Manor, as the two of them were seen heading to the Hogwarts Express together the very next day. Even as the Dark Mark hovers in the air above the Tower Bridge, tying the two to different loyalties, their whirlwind affair shows the world that love really does conquer all._

_Meanwhile, Diagon Alley and the Millennium Bridge were stormed by Death Eaters, resulting in the deaths of approximately 37 Muggles, Florean Fortescue, and the kidnapping of Ollivander, a well-known wand-maker._

The next column went on to talk vaguely about Ollivander, and about how his whereabouts were "_not clear_".

"Fucking perfect," I hissed, flinging the paper away from me. "Close to nothing about the actual damage, but a whole bloody article about me and Malfoy? This time, the Daily Prophet has really outdone itself."

"But… did you really go to Malfoy Manor, Fawn?" Ron asked, blue eyes narrowed. My friends were all staring at me with a mixture of suspicion and sympathy—in fact, the entire Great Hall was.

"Fucking perfect," I mumbled again, under my breath. "I'll answer you later, Ron, I have to go."

I stood up and gathered all my letters. I would read them later. Right now, I just wanted to get out of here. But oh, look, apparently Draco Malfoy decided to stand up at the exact same time as I did.

I glared at him from across the hall, hoping the intensity of my glare wouldn't dilute due to the distance between us. It didn't. He glared back, and stormed out of the Great Hall. I sat back down, not wanting to cause more of a scandal by seemingly following him out.

"You're blushing," Ginny mumbled into her apple pie, taking pity on my circumstances. At this, my face heated up even more—now it probably blended in with the cherry tomatoes that sat in front of me. Have I mentioned how much it mattered to me what other people thought?

I stood up again, determined to clear my reputation. "Hey, everyone—" here, I choked a little, causing a few snickers from the Slytherin table. I was probably a mess: bright red, fuming, my hair messy from not combing it this morning. "Nothing's happening between Malfoy and I. I hate his guts. He hates mine. End of story."

With that, I gathered up my things (again) and swept out of the Great Hall.

Okay, so maybe having such high hopes for today wasn't such a great idea.

I slid into my usual seat next to Seamus in Defense Against Dark Arts, behind Ron and Harry, giving him a tentative smile as a hello.

To my huge relief, he turned and promptly wrapped me up in his familiar arms. "Dun worry, Fawn. I dun believe anything the Daily Prophet says about yer and Malfoy. None of us do."

Overhearing this, a couple other Gryffindors turned to give me an encouraging smile. This didn't completely reassure me. Maybe they didn't believe it, but that's because they're my friends. But what would the rest of the wizarding world think?

"Thanks," I mumbled back, breathing in the familiar burnt scent that always surrounded Seamus. I pulled back, coughing a little, my worry temporarily forgotten. "What did you burn up this time, Seams?" I asked, chuckling.

Before he could answer, a drawling voice cut in. "If the two of you are going to chat like this for the entire class, it's my duty to move you to other seats." Snape said slowly, in his gravelly tone.

Freezing, the two of us turned to face the front of the class, where Snape had just walked in.

"I'm calling for a class rearrangement. I'm sure you're all aware of what assigned seatings are. Ronald Weasley and Blaise Zambini." Just like that, he began rearranging our class.

And, knowing I had probably the worst luck in the world, I knew what was coming before Snape said it.

"Fawn Saffron and Draco Malfoy."

Sure, I was prepared, but that didn't mean I wasn't entitled to some freaking out. "What?" I snapped. "Professor Snape, please sir, you've got to be—"

"Shut up, Miss Saffron, and move."

There was a cacophony of giggles from the back of the classroom, where the Slytherin girls were. I flushed.

Surprisingly, Draco just moved his things to the side and shifted over a little to make space for me. I thumped my books down as heavily as possible to show my displeasure, and scraped the chair as loudly as I could.

"Hey, lover girl." There it was. The snide remark I had expected. An exhilarated feeling swept over me, but I brushed it away. I seriously had to stop being so attracted to Malfoy. That would ruin my reputation.

"Don't talk to me," I snapped back, settling into my new seat. Being so close to Malfoy (in broad daylight) was a new experience for me—maybe that's why it made my palms so sweaty.

"So you're the no talk, all action kind of girl?" His wolfish grey eyes made no doubt about what kind of action he meant.

"Shut—" I halted. "Never," I opted for hissing instead. I sniffed the air, and breathed in the natural musk that clung to his sweater. "Where's your usual cologne, Malfoy? You seriously smell bad without it."

Draco shot me a mildly surprised look. "I don't wear cologne, Saffron. Never have."

Oh.

Class began, and we decided to interact with each other as little as possible. As a result, we didn't interact at all, except for one time when his arm accidentally brushed against mine.

And when his hand accidentally landed on my thigh when he tried to reach for a new quill.

And when he nudged my hip ever so subtly when he bent down to pick up a piece of parchment he had dropped.

Suddenly, his hand was brushing against my leg. Again.

"Can you stop that!" I burst out, not able to take it anymore.

Immediately, the whole class's eyes were on us. My cheeks heated up, and I hid myself behind a curtain of my own hair.

"Stop what?" Draco replied, with his predatory grin.

I rolled my eyes at him, and scoffed. There's no way I was going to embarrass myself by saying exactly what he had done.

"Is there a problem?" Snape demanded.

"No, sir," I sighed. I was instantly aware of Malfoy's huge, victorious grin, shining at me from the peripheral of my vision like a bloody beacon.

"Shut up, Malfoy." I grumbled. Then, on second thought, I added: "And don't make that no talk, all action joke again."

He was silent for a while. "You know, I can't believe you don't know what an aguamenti charm is." He mumbled to himself suddenly.

"Are you looking at my work?" I replied, startled. Shit. He'd been copying the whole time. "And why would it be so odd if I didn't know what that was?"

He just bit his pale lips and shook his head. I decided to ignore him. Then, after a while, he asked: "Hey, you never answered me, you know."

"Answered what?" I snapped back, not looking at him. I was seriously on edge today, and he seemed to be making it his duty to bother me as much as possible. Why was he suddenly so talkative and goddamned friendly all of a sudden?

"What's your wand core?" He restated the question. Then, he held up a finger. "Wait, let me guess. Coral?"

I shook my head, mystified. I pretended to concentrate on my work.

"Veela hair?"

"No."

"Kelpie hair?"

"No! What is with you and guessing all these…"My mind made a link. "They're all water creatures," I whispered. I lifted my head from my parchment to stare at the platinum haired boy. He shifted guiltily, avoiding my gaze.

No way.

No bloody way.

I opened my mouth, heart pounding, ready to interrogate him. My mind began formulating ways to phrase the question. There was the sound of blood rushing in my ears, and I was seemingly unable to take deep, steady breaths.

What do you know?

How do you know?

Who told you?

Draco stood up, and gathered his books in one fell sweep. I blinked at him in surprise. Vaguely, I noticed the sound of chairs scraping. The bell had rung.

"Have a nice day, Saffron," Draco's low murmur reached my ears belatedly, and in an instant, he was gone, lost among the crowds of people that rushed out of class.

No bloody way.

I had barely paid attention during Charms class. Professor Flitwick had called on me twice in the first thirty minutes of class, and I had no idea what he was talking about. Talk about embarrassing. Soon after, he told me to stay back in class for a quick chat before I went to my next class.

"This is not a good way to start off your year, Fawn. As you know, sixth year is very important. Your O.W.L grades last year were pretty good, but—"

"I understand, Professor Flitwick," I interrupted impatiently. "There's just a lot on my mind right now. I'll catch up next class, I promise."

"Well, very well then, Fawn, I've got faith in you, and I understand the rumors you're facing, so—"

"Thank you so much Professor Flitwick! I've got to run! See you next class!" I interrupted again, guiltily this time because I did like Professor Flitwick, I was just in a rush.

I darted out the door, leaving a flustered Charms professor behind. Once outside, I pumped my legs as hard as I could, barging through groups of students more than once. I had to get to Herbology—now.

"Sorry!" I threw a quick apology behind my shoulder at the girl I just rammed into. "Excuse me!"

And so, minutes later, I arrived outside the Herbology greenhouse. Class hadn't started, but I was relieved to find that most of the seats had not been filled. Specifically, I was relieved that I had made it to Herbology before one of Malfoy's sidekicks made it.

Trying to seem as nonchalant as possible, I breezed right past my friends—who were looking at me with confused expressions—and plopped into the seat next to Draco Malfoy.

"We need to talk." I told him, ignoring the apprehensive expression on his well-defined, pale face.

"Must we talk here?" He waved an arm around. "Blaise was going to sit there."

Just then, Blaise walked into the classroom and sat down next to Millicent Bulstrode, throwing a casual glance at Malfoy along the way.

"Maybe there's a fight that you forgot about? Because he definitely wasn't planning to sit here." I answered airily.

Malfoy winced. "Fine. I'd prefer to sit alone though, if that's alright with you."

"No. I want answers." I paused, then added mockingly: "if that's alright with you." I put my bag on the floor and wiggled a little on my chair, making a show of settling in.

He groaned, and shuffled a little further away.

"Hello, class!" Professor Sprout chirped as she hobbled into the greenhouse, carrying a few pots of—Oh crap. Bubotubers. My disgust overwhelmed my previous need for answers a little bit.

Loud protests rang out among the students: nobody liked dealing with bubotubers—those slimy, thick, slug-like plants that squeezed out pus. Like I said before—disgusting.

"You'll all need to wear your gloves—yes, I know, Lavender—but these bubotubers were freshly imported, and I thought it would be great if everyone reconnected after a long summer by bonding over some fun activities." Professor Sproud continued, motioning for us to each grab a pot from the front of the greenhouse.

"Disgusting things, bubotubers," I muttered under my breath. "Slimy, disgusting, foul, loathsome, evil little slugs." Involuntarily, I shivered.

Draco raised an eyebrow at me. "Sounds a little bit like how Hermione described me back in year three, Saffron. Please don't tell me you're comparing me to these things."

I looked at him, blinking a little in surprise and recognition, and burst out laughing. There was no way Draco resembled these bubotubers. These were gross and ugly, while Draco… well, he's a good-looking boy, and no one can argue against that. Always dressed so impeccably, holding himself haughtily, with the infamous Malfoy sneer, he held himself like a prince.

"Actually, I wasn't doing it on purpose—it must've been subconscious," I teased back, flinching when my bubotuber squirmed a little in its pot. I produced a pair of goggles and slipped my gloves on, encasing my fingers in layers of impenetrable leather.

"The pair that collects the most bubotuber pus will get to sit out of the next activity, which will be dealing with the Fanged Geranium. You can begin!" Professor Sprout chirped.

"Pairs?" I choked, glancing around. Neville was by himself, but Professor Sprout would never allow me to become his partner now, since she'd think I was trying to claw my way away from the Fanged Geranium. Everyone else was already in pairs.

"Pairs." Slate grey eyes regarded me in amusement, but then he sighed. "Let's get this over and done with, then."

I looked dubiously at the bubotuber, which looked rather unappetizing to me, but with a sigh, I held a vial at one of the pores and squeezed with the other hand. Draco did the same on the other side of the plant.

"So," I said casually. "Care to tell me what you meant when you were guessing my wand core in Defense?"

"What do you mean?" He replied, just as casually.

"Don't fuck with me, Draco Malfoy. You know something—I want to know how you know, exactly what you know, and… and… just explain!" I stuttered at the end a little when that damned, incorrigible boy _licked his lips._

"Sorry, you're just a sight to behold when you're angry," he explained smoothly, indecent eyes flickering upwards to meet mine. Wait. Upwards?

"Just explain, for Merlin's sake!" I snapped, squeezing my part of the bubotuber too hard. The pus squirted out all over my glove, and I let out an involuntary wail of sadness. I liked those gloves.

"I don't know what you mean," Draco replied, smirk in place. Suddenly, I had a flash of inspiration. Squeezing the bubotuber, I aimed a pore at Malfoy.

"Ahh! Shit! " He cried, raising a hand to block his face. "What are you bloody doing, Saffron!" He demanded, expensive robes now mussed up with slimy bubotuber pus. His eyes were flashing, and his jawbones were trembling with clenched anger. Damn, he was breathtaking.

I reined in my laughter to some extent of success. "Getting answers, Malfoy!" Before I knew it, he had tackled me in a hug, dowsing me in disgusting pus. His hips slammed unnecessarily hard against mine. I shoved back from the hard body, disentangling myself, resisting an embarrassing sound that bubbled up my throat. "Draco bloody Malfoy!" I panted instead, scrambling backwards and looking down to check the damage, all the while trying to avoid thinking about that rush I had just felt.

The damage to my clothes I could handle, but—"You got some on my hair!" I gasped, eyes wide with shock. You've got to be kidding. It would take hours to get that off my hair—that's if it doesn't corrode everything away first. I wasn't a girly girl, but nobody wanted to be bald!

I threw my vial (without the lid) at him. The slimy liquid, which hadn't settled down just yet, splattered itself all over him. He leapt backwards, his face a mask of disgust, anger and… was that amusement?

Yes it was. And just behind that amusement… was that lust?

I stopped cold.

We stared at each other. Suddenly, Madam Sprout came bustling over.

"What in Merlin's name were you doing?" She shouted, her face pink with anger. "Bubotuber pus can be very harmful to you both! Twenty points from Slytherin and Gryffindor! Now get over to the hospital wing, while I report this to the Headmaster. Go! Go! Get out of here, both of you!"

It was a well-known fact that Madam Sprout didn't give detention. It was just as well, since otherwise I would have been stuck with Malfoy for who knows how long.

"Sorry," I tried to apologize as I made my way towards the door through rows of both my friends and enemies, gazing at me in shock and disbelief. They must think I'm an awful daredevil now, I thought regretfully. I avoided the eyes of the Golden Trio, afraid of what I might see in their eyes.

Professor Sprout's eyes softened. She turned to Malfoy, who lingered behind me, arrogantly grimacing as he tried to clean his robes of the damage. "I saw you start this whole thing, Malfoy!" She snapped at him, eyes flashing. "And I will be reporting that to the Headmaster!"

Inwardly, I smiled. Okay, maybe this wasn't _entirely _in vain.

A wet (but still well-defined) shoulder slammed into mine, pushing me aside just as I'd made it to the door. "Meet me at the top of the astronomy tower at midnight, Saffron, and I'll give you your answers," he growled huskily in my ear before storming off, muttering things like "I'll make you pay," and "I'm going to sue Sprout!"

I guess with his father in Azkaban, Malfoy was finally learning to rely on himself, huh? No more 'wait until my father hears about this' for him!

I pursed my lips and glared at his back. So he thinks making the meeting point at the top of the astronomy tower, so late into the night is going to scare me off?

Think again, Malfoy.

**Is it just me, or do you think something more than explaining is going to go on at the astronomy tower? Wait and see, guys.**

**Until next time!**

**~Nightingalelynx**


	6. Written In the Stars

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the character except Fawn, blah, blah blah…**

**Author's Note:**

_So I just bumped into this spinoff series that described James Potters' experience at Hogwarts (not by J.K. Rowling, nor is it an official part of the series, but still). And on the very first page, there was this goblin called Mr. Saffron._

_I burst out laughing. Seriously. Anyway, just wanted to say that Fawn is not related to that character, and it was purely a coincidence. Enjoy!_

**Written In the Stars**

Hermione took forever to fall asleep. At first, I pretended to tackle my homework load just to wait her out, but that proved impossible. I simply ran out of homework. I had no idea how she managed to find so much to do.

On the outside, I tried to appear concerned with my work. Inside, I was getting nervous, and the ticking of the enchanted grandfather clock seemed to grow louder. My nerves were nearly completely scattered by the time the clock struck eleven. _Hurry up and go to sleep already, Herms_, I thought, frustrated beyond repair.

Shit. I was going to be late, and Malfoy was going to think I was a no-show. All because Hermione was a hardworking little prick.

"Well, then, I think I'm just going to call it a night," Hermione's whispered voice travelled across the room towards me. The two other four-post beds were already dimmed—both Parvati and Fay had gone to bed a long time ago. "You should go to sleep too, Fawn. Long day tomorrow."

My pulse jumped. _Long night too, Hermione_. I thought wryly, but outwardly I just smiled wearily and nodded, trying not to seem too eager. Come on. Get going, Fawn. This is it.

Hermione disappeared into her four poster bed, and after a few minutes of tossing and turning, her corner of the dorm fell silent as well. I stayed sitting at my desk, motionless, hardly daring to breath. Three separate rhythms of breathing came from each bed. They were asleep—hopefully, anyway, since I wouldn't be able to waste any more time waiting for them to fall asleep.

I glanced at the clock—five minutes until midnight.

Shutting my lamp off with a hasty flick of my wand, I shed my robe and tiptoed out of the dorm, barefoot. My robe would make too much shuffling noise, and I was quieter without the clip clop of my shoes.

I practically sprinted out of the Gryffindor common room. By the time I got to the staircases leading up the Astronomy tower, I was panting slightly. Nevertheless, I took the stairs two at a time, with stamina I didn't know I had. Madam Hooch would have been proud.

But the moment I burst through the doors that led out to the balcony, I knew that no one was there. The icy wind bit at my exposed ears, nose, arms, and bare feet. My eyes swept around the empty space, drinking in every shadow, hoping desperately that it would be Malfoy.

I hissed with annoyance, my fists clenching. I couldn't believe it. At the end of the day, it was _Draco Malfoy_ that was the no show. That selfish, cowardly, ditching little asshole! That stupid blond git!

Still, I'd been through a lot to get here. I thought I should at least give him the benefit of doubt—who knows if he had been delayed in his common room the way I had? So, shivering, I wrapped my arms around myself and curled up in the corner of the Astronomy Tower.

The time ticked past. I grew increasingly aware of how much trouble I'd be in if I were caught here. But I couldn't bring myself to leave—what if he showed up _the moment _I left? What if he was testing me, trying to wait me out? I stared desolately at the gradually brightening sky. Where the hell was he?

There was something sinking in my chest, I thought offhandedly—a feeling I couldn't name but one that I knew quite well. I chased the word around in my brain for a while before I finally realized.

Abandonment.

I felt abandoned.

Draco had made me a promise, and he hadn't kept it. Just like how my parents—a choked sob erupted from my chest before I could rein it back in. No. Don't go there, Fawn, I thought shakily to myself.

So that was why I felt so miserable. There was something in this situation that reminded me of the way my parents never showed up one day. I should probably leave now, I decided, my mind a little clearer and more rational now.

Suddenly, heavy footsteps from the stairwell distracted me from my complex and surprisingly depressing thoughts.

I shot up, sinking into the shadows, pulse racing furiously. Shit. If that was Filch, I was screwed.

The figure appeared in the doorway, and the full moonlight shined upon a full head of white-blond hair, and a drawn face that lingered with shadows.

"Malfoy," I hissed, stepping out of the shadows and breathing hard with both relief and anger. "Where the hell were you? You said midnight, you jerk! I've been waiting here since then—have you got an explanation for that? Because it better be good." The effect of my rant was ruined a little due to the violent chattering of my teeth.

"Fawn," he responded tiredly, sounding vaguely surprised. His voice was raspy, and he sounded weary. "You're still here. I thought you'd be gone by now."

"Oh, so was that your plan, Malfoy?" I stepped lightly towards him, shivering, fists clenched to the best of my ability. They felt rather numb. "Make me wait, in hope that I'd just give up and _leave_?" I couldn't believe that he could be so cowardly to come up with schemes just to avoid telling me the truth.

He stayed silent. I couldn't see his eyes with the way the shadows of his sharp features danced across his face, but I got a hint of the air of tiredness and hopelessness that enveloped him.

I frowned. Huh.

His lean, shrouded frame leaned against the handrail, apparently relaxed, but I wasn't fooled. What was wrong with him? What had happened?

The silence echoed around us as I tried to come up with a way to ask what was wrong with him, my anger forgotten. A moment later, I had given up.

"So, are you going to answer my earlier questions, or what?" I sighed in defeat. I don't care what was going on with him—I'll leave as soon as I get my answers, I decided firmly.

"Yeah. My mother told me you're half mermaid." He replied. Straightforward. Blunt. Direct.

I was taken aback. I went through all that trouble just to get an answer that I probably should have known to begin with. Suddenly, I began to wonder. Did I really meet him up here just to get answers? Honestly, it wasn't that hard to guess.

But then again, what _was _I doing here?

I gave a particularly violent shudder, and suddenly Draco was gently wrapping a heavy, warm cloak around me. "You'll catch a cold," he muttered, stepping back almost immediately as if afraid of touching me.

I was just snuggling into the cloak when I saw my chance. I tiptoed delicately forwards, towards Draco, wincing when my nearly frozen feet made contact with the hard marble ground. I reached out and grasped at the front of his robes, signaling for him to stay.

Draco flinched backwards, but forced himself to stay put. I pretended I hadn't seen it. Instead, I closed the distance between us, trying to work out my own thoughts. His robes were dusty and smelled faintly of sweat. There were shadows beneath those stunning grey eyes of his.

I had never seen him so vulnerable, and it intrigued me.

I leaned in closer. "Why were you late, Draco?" I whispered, my voice carried away by the wind almost immediately after I had uttered them. But he had heard me. I was sure he did.

"Why do you care, Fawn?" He uttered back, just as deathly quiet. He mirrored my movement, and leaned in, as if he had known the effect it would have on me. Against my will, my eyes drifted towards his pale lips. They looked soft, like… sand. No, softer—like softest winter snow, right before spring came.

And suddenly, the two of us were shifting, moving like water, overlapping each other. A moment later, he'd had me pressed gently against the sharp pang of metal that was the handrail, and finally I could see his impenetrable, indecent grey eyes clearly. I shivered, and suddenly I felt warmer than I had ever felt.

Realizing I still had to answer, but not remembering what the conversation had been about, I gave up and just whispered his name. "Draco," I mumbled. It sounded like a plea.

He wasn't looking into my eyes. He dipped his head, and for that moment, when I thought he was about to kiss me, I nearly had a heart failure. Instead, his lips grazed my jawbone, moving lower to caress my neck.

I melted into his touch, pulling him closer. And then I did something I'd always wanted to do—I ran my fingers through his hair. Turns out, they weren't as coarse as a pig's nostril hair. His hair was soft—so soft it was almost comparable to his lips. I shivered and gasped, and he responded with a moan as he pressed his hips against mine, nipping the flesh at the base of my neck.

"Fawn," he mumbled. Suddenly, I had the feeling that he was about to cry. Which was crazy. Draco Malfoy didn't cry. He made others cry. Others like me.

"Don't," I responded breathlessly, pulling my gaze forcefully off his face and looking around our surroundings. I didn't understand how the world suddenly seemed bigger, brighter, more beautiful. I wanted to remember every moment of this because I had a nagging feeling that this bliss would soon be gone.

"You don't want to know where I've been?" A smirk graced the edge of his lips.

"You know, a lot of Gryffindor girls had admitted to me that when Draco Malfoy smiled, they absolutely fell in love." I interrupted softly. "But the fact is, you're _you _when you've got that hateful, stupid, aristocratic smirk on, Draco." I paused, wondering where I was going with this.

Merlin, I was a mess. He made me so ephemeral—one moment I'm angry, the next I'm sad, and then I'm confused.

He wasn't good for me—he wasn't good for the stability I'd created for myself. I had used to be temperamental, you know. Some might even say I was bipolar—one moment I was sweet, but I was so sensitive that if someone so much as hinted at absolutely anything that might put me off, I'd flip out.

Other Slytherins backed off, freaked out by my primitive, unpredictable side. But Malfoy had never backed down. He had always tried to test my limits—see how far he could go before I snapped.

That was one of the reasons why I hated him.

I had been so lost in my thoughts, I didn't even notice that he had shifted his weight off me, and was slowly backing away. Somehow, he knew what I needed and was doing it for me.

"I don't like it when you smile, because you're so fake when you do." I called out to him, stronger and more confident now that the distance between us had increased.

True to his reputation, he smiled, just to piss me off.

But with those grey eyes flashing mischievously, his hair tousled by—oh Merlin—by my own wandering hands, the moonlight reflecting perfectly off his platinum hair, he looked irresistible—not because I liked him, oh no—he was irresistible in a forbidden fruit kind of way. And I realized I had lied when I'd said I didn't like his smile.

He backed away further, preparing to leave. And so I grasped at straws, looking for any way to make him stay.

"Why were you late, Draco?" I asked, not sure if he would tell me anymore, now that the connection, our moment, was broken.

He shook his head, his smile disappearing suddenly, as if he had suddenly remembered to maintain that air of defeat around him. "You lost your chance to that a moment ago, Saffron."

"Well, that's meaningless then, isn't it? If you'd only tell me in one particular circumstance but not another, I mean."

He raised an eyebrow, smirking cruelly. "Beggars can't be choosers, goat. Who said we were _meaningful _to begin with?"

"Stop calling me that." I snapped back, infuriated by his mercurial personalities. One moment he was all sweet and gentle, the next he was just the bully I'd known since first year. "I'm not the beggar here—you are. Your father's as good as dead, and your Malfoy reputation is going to be dragged through the dirt, even if Voldemort wins and we don't. Either way, you're going down."

He flinched when I said Voldemort's name, and it suddenly occurred to me that I might have struck a chord. There _was _something desperately wrong with him, and it had something to do with Voldemort.

"Don't say his name _ever _again, do you understand?" He said sharply, and suddenly his eyes were flashing, his features colder than the wind rushing past us.

He was about to leave.

I won't let him leave me.

So instead, I slipped past him and left first.

Down the spiraling staircase, which was as dark and as foreboding as the robes of dementors. I was spinning out of control—down, down, down. After a while, down was the only direction I knew. The heights. Oh Merlin. I was still falling.

I jerked awake, sticky, icy sweat clinging to my skin, to my scalp. I'd tossed and turned on my bed that night, after leaving the astronomy tower. Glancing over at the grandfather clock hanging on the wall, I realized that I still had an hour before I was supposed to be in the Great Hall before dinner.

I felt like I had gotten about 3 minutes of sleep.

I couldn't sleep. Sitting up, I stretched—and noticed the heaviness of a foreign, baggy object. It was only then that I realized that I was still wearing Draco's cloak. I shrugged it off, and folded the soft, luxurious, but overbearingly warm material.

Seriously. It was like an oven in there.

I fell asleep again—this time I knew I was dreaming. Dreaming of shards of silver that shone in the moonlight.

Hermione yawned a great, huge, gasping yawn as we trudged into the Great Hall the next morning. You know, the kind of yawn that sucked in all available oxygen from within a mile radius. I had the overwhelming urge to shut her gaping jaw for her. With a slap.

Sorry, Hermione. Apparently, late-night rendezvouses weren't really my style. They just made me have an overload of dreams in the night (dreams which, embarrassingly, I didn't seem to be able to forget), and then in the morning, I was just plain grumpy.

I looked around the hallway, pretending to be searching for someone as I took in who was around me. Okay, fine, maybe I was actually just looking for someone.

Draco Malfoy was a few feet behind me, leading his usual crew of Slytherin cronies. His hair was the color of pure butter as usual, but today it looked unruly and uncombed. No longer meticulous.

I smirked, remembering the way I personally messed it up. Go me.

Sharp grey eyes flickered upwards to meet mine, and I jerked my head away immediately, though it was already too late. I felt a burn rise to my cheeks. Behind me, a chorus of snickers rose from Crabbe and Goyle, who had seen the entire exchange. I grew even redder.

I practically ran to my table and sat down next to Seamus, Neville, and Dean, who were giving me odd glances.

"How's Malfoy?" Seamus asked.

My heart nearly stopped. "Wha-what?" I blurted out, blushing furiously and wondering if this was just a dream. How did they know? It was impossible.

"Yesterday?" Neville was raising an eyebrow. "In Herbology?"

Oh. That.

"He got detention," I replied, grinning smugly now and flipping a bit of hair over my shoulder. Inwardly, I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Good job, Fawn." Dean clapped a hand on my shoulder, and the three of them moved away slightly. Ron dropped into their place, squashing any sort of confusion I had. Everyone knew we always sat together.

Today, Ron looked worried. Hermione, who had just managed to fight her way through the crowd, dropped into the seat across from me.

"No, no, no, no, here comes Harry, oh no—" Ron was muttering under his breath.

Hermione and I furrowed our brows.

"What's wrong, Ron?" She asked, her voice higher pitched than usual as if trying to maintain an air of nonchalance, although she was looking at him much too affectionately for that tone of voice.

"Oh, Merlin, here comes Draco too—bloody hell, this is a disaster in the making!" Ron continued. He was eyeing the doorway to the Great Hall furiously, and sure enough, Draco was just approaching the doors in that lazy strut of his. Harry, on the other hand, was coming from the right, and approaching fast. He looked furious at something.

They were going to collide.

They did.

"Oi, Potter!" Draco snapped loudly, drawing the attention of everyone in their proximity. Everyone inched away. "Watch where you're going! Or do you need a new prescription for those glasses of yours? Run out of funds from dead mommy and daddy, have you? Can't afford to buy new ones?" By the end of his rant, his tone had taken on his familiar taunting tone.

But instead of taking it further, he simply stepped into the Great Hall and began to walk away. As if his rant was just for show.

However, the black-haired boy behind him grew redder in his fury. He stepped forward quickly, and gripped Malfoy's arm in what looked like a death grip. "Say that again, Malfoy, I _dare _you." He growled.

Ron, Hermione, and I stood up quickly; ready to run to his rescue.

Malfoy gave Harry a half-hearted (and tired) smirk and simply tried to pull away. Suddenly, the image of him defeated and weary flickered in my mind. My heart gave a strange tug.

"Actually, I take that back. There's something _much _more interesting that I'd like to see you do. Roll up your left sleeve, Malfoy." Harry spat back, jaw trembling as he wrestled with his emotions.

Everyone in the Great Hall gasped.

So that was what this was all about. Harry's claim that Draco Malfoy was now one of Voldemort's lapdogs—the claim that too many people believed.

Not Malfoy. He was a bully, but he wasn't evil.

Unfortunately, Harry was hell-bent. "Roll up your sleeve, Malfoy! Let's get this out in the open once and for all."

Malfoy turned, and suddenly his silver eyes were flashing dangerously. "Who do _you _think _you _are, _Potter?_" He spat back. "You think that just because you're the 'Chosen One', you've got the right to accuse anyone you wanted about being a _D-Death Eater?!_"

Malfoy had stuttered a bit when he'd reached those words. This only seemed to fuel Harry's confidence.

"If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear. I'm not letting you go, Malfoy, until you roll up your left sleeve." Harry was smugly confident—a look that, I decided, didn't look well on him.

Draco looked like he was about to punch a hole in Harry's face.

I hurried over to the two boys, with Ron and Hermione in my wake. "Guys, stop, you're making a scene." I said. Ron gave me a disbelieving look, and I shrugged. That was what first popped into my mind.

"Come on, Harry, just drop it." Ron prodded, tugging on Harry's arm. Harry shook his best friend away gently.

"No. He's a Death Eater, and if we have one of _them _in our midst, we should find out right away." He replied, an air of superiority descending upon him.

"And then? What are you planning to do to him if he _does _end up being a Death Eater?" I rounded on Harry, suddenly annoyed. "Torture him? Kill him? Send him to Azkaban? We grew up with him, Harry. Do you really think he's the bad guy?"

For the first time since this argument broke out, Harry looked a little uncertain. "I just want to make sure, Fawn."

"Why? Why do you suspect him? Don't you think that's a little unfair to him? He might be a bully, but he's not _evil_."

"His father is in Azkaban for being a Death Eater, Fawn. I think—"

"You think what? You think that's grounds for you to accuse him of being a Death Eater? Accuse him of siding with the enemy? This is a _war, _Harry, not detention. We're supposed to be the noble, fair side. Why are we suddenly judging others for what their parents did? Huh?" I was on fire today, and Harry's emerald green gaze was locked sheepishly on the floor.

"She's got a point, Harry, let's go." Hermione tugged Harry firmly away from Draco. "If we find enough evidence to support your claim, we'll give it to Dumbledore, who can review it. He'll decide whether or not Draco needs questioning."

"Yeah!" Ron piped up. "For now, let's just eat breakfast, okay?"

Harry gave Draco one last furious glance before sighing in temporary defeat and walking away with Ron and Hermione.

I huffed victoriously, and let an impish grin appear on my face. Carefully avoiding Malfoy's gaze, I took off after my friends.

It took all my willpower not to look back.

**Woo! Yet another chapter (and a long one, too) done! :D Yay! As always, review please. It motivates me and keeps me writing, and it only takes a few minutes! Thanks, guys!**

**Until next time!**

**~Nightingalelynx.**


	7. This Kiss

**Disclaimer: 1) I don't own Harry Potter, and also 2) if you haven't reviewed yet, please do. I want to know what you guys think!**

**This Kiss**

Honestly, the restricted section should just be called the 'section-of-the-library-where-only-charming-people -can-get-into'. It had been way too easy for me to blink prettily at Professor Slughorn and lie about a project due tomorrow that required access to this part of the library.

He believed me, as do most people when I lie, and quickly wrote a note to Madam Pince saying that I was allowed in here as many times as I wanted to for the duration of this week. Yeah. _The entire week._

If the majority of students had evil intentions, there'd be so many Voldemorts, there wouldn't be enough Harrys to go around. Luckily, I wasn't evil. I was just looking for a way to get extra credit, and I had thought of a perfect way to get myself an Outstanding in my exam at the end of sixth year.

I was going to invent a spell.

Giddy with excitement, I stepped over the threshold and suddenly I was four years old again, waiting to open my birthday present. Even Hermione hadn't thought of this, and I was thrilled.

What the spell would actually _do, _well… _that_ I haven't decided yet. But whatever, right?

The books here were, by appearance, dusty, smelly, and moldy, but they had this air of ancient power to them, as if they could snap your spine if they wanted to. I grinned ecstatically. Starting in the 'A's, I browsed through each thick volume, looking for information on creating spells. It would take a while, but I didn't mind.

What felt like hours later, I was bleary eyed, sleepy, and fighting the urge to sneeze. I had written bits and pieces of useful information in tiny letters on a piece of parchment, but I hadn't really found a book that would give me a step-by-step guide. Finally giving in, I sneezed. There was a slight shuffling sound.

Suddenly, a prickly feeling started at the base of my neck, raising tiny hairs on the length of my spine. I didn't know how I knew it, but someone was here. I cast a panicked glance out of the large tinted window—night had fallen long ago, and it was nearly curfew. Who on Earth was spying on me?

Carefully, with measured, precise movements, I placed the book I was currently holding back onto its shelf. I took a deep breath and spun around, pulling my wand out of the pocket of my school blouse in one quick movement—to find my body pinned between the oak bookshelf and someone tall, hard and tauntingly masculine.

"Hello, Fawn." Draco said, almost casually. "Were you avoiding me?"

I stuttered to a halt. It was true. After my impulsive actions earlier today in the Great Hall, I could barely stand to look at him without feeling an onslaught of confusion. So to avoid this, I simply… avoided him.

I hadn't expected him to catch up to me so quickly.

"…Maybe," I mumbled, trying to calm my rapidly pounding heart. My pulse throbbed in my throat. My palms suddenly felt sticky with sweat, and I couldn't bring myself to look at anything other than his tie, its Slytherin colors glinting in the dim lighting. A sharp reminder of why I couldn't just melt into him.

"Could you…" I cleared my throat. "Could you maybe let go of me now?"

He chuckled. Instead of letting me go, the little git grabbed my hands and lifted my arms above my head and pinned me against the wall. Hot breath caressed my neck, and lips brushed my earlobe. I desperately fought the guttural noise that threatened to come out of my throat.

"Why? Are you scared?" His voice is huskier than usual.

What in the name of Merlin is happening to me.

"No." I said defiantly, trying not to breathe too hard. "Why are you here, Malfoy?" I'm careful to use his last name. I'm careful with all my movements. Every breath I take, I'm painfully aware of his chest brushing against mine. Every time my eyes dart to look somewhere else, I'm desperate not to look into his eyes.

If I did, I might just give in.

A slow, dark smirk grows on his face, and he trails his spare hand up my thigh. Apparently, he had seen right through me. And how the hell did a stupid grin turn me on so much? "You don't have to say _accio _to make me come, Saffron," He growls, still grinning.

A mewling sound lodges in my throat. His smirk grows wider.

_Fuck me. _I mean—wait, no…

"What—did y-you just…" I gasp, bucking hard, expecting him to let me go. He doesn't. Instead, his eyelids suddenly flutter closed, and he presses closer. He bites his lip, but I hear the sound lodged in his throat, anyways. It's a deep growl that fucking curls my toes. I grit my teeth.

There's silence. _Don't oh don't say anything oh please, _I thought, staring desperately at his tie. _I can't fucking take it._

"Tell me to stop, Saffron." Suddenly, Draco is tilting my head up gently, forcing me to look at him. His eyes were shards of diamonds flickering like silver flames over molten fire, half-lidded, glazed over. "You don't deserve being tangled up with someone like me."

"What—what do… what do you m-mean?" I breathe back, too curious for my own good, too distracted to think clearly. "Tell me, goddammit, Malfoy!"

"I've been _chosen _for a mission so great, so grand that you couldn't even _dream_ to be in my position. I'm going to change the course of the world," He replies bitterly. His eyes are wide, unguarded for once. They're darker than the silvery grey I was used to seeing.

"But you don't want anything to do with that mission." It's a statement, not a question.

"No." He pulled backwards; clearly shutting down again. My hand snaked up and grasped hold of his tie, crumpling the soft material in my grip, keeping him from moving. A flicker of surprise registers in his eyes, and I press on.

"But you have to do it. To save yourself." I knew I was correct the minute a veil shuttered across his face. But to my surprise, he answered directly.

"Yes."

What happened next was entirely out of my control. I didn't know what I was doing at all, or why I was doing it. Maybe it's because he's broken and I'm naïve enough to think I can fix him. Maybe it's just because he looks so damned irresistible just standing there, eyes wide and trusting enough to let me in, even if it's only for a short period of time.

I leaned forward. His lips are soft, sending promising tingles shivering under my skin, which was igniting like a gasoline fire. He tastes like bar soap and rain and sweet musk. He tastes like caviar, and all things rich and expensive. He tastes like a forbidden luxury.

He stiffened in shock, and then slowly responds by threading his fingers through my hair and pulling me closer. I kiss him harder, accidentally clashing our teeth in a painful collision, and I let out a shocked whimper at my own impulsive actions. But just as I'm about to pull back, Draco pushes forward, attacking my neck with his lips. A keening sound escapes, and I realize that it was me, that_ I_ made that sound.

He jumps into action, running one hand over my hip and up my side. His fingers tickled. His fingers eased beneath the edge of my top, brushing the sensitive skin over my ribs and beneath my breast. I gasped, fascinated by the curiously delicate sensation and my own conflicting impulses.

He kisses me again.

It's not a soft kiss at all. It's the kind of kiss that makes you realize that oxygen is overrated. He slams his hips into me wildly, and the whole bookshelf shakes. A book falls on my head—heavy, solid, and menacing: just like my conscience.

Unconsciously, I read the title. It's the "Fifteenth-Century Fiends".

Suddenly, I remember myself; exactly who I am and where I am. I jerked backwards, yelping as my head hits something hard. I realize vaguely that I'm trembling.

"You're a Slytherin, Malfoy." I spit out, trying to compose myself. "I'm a Gryffindor. It's never going to work out." But I want it to.

I wiggle out of his grasp when he doesn't respond. I'm breathing hard now, as the world crashes back down upon us. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Madam Pince standing up from her librarian's chair, heading in our direction. She couldn't see us, but just a few more steps… My reputation would be ruined if I were to be found here with Draco.

I hadn't realized that I'd said the last part aloud.

Draco laughed. His laugh was cold, mirthless. I notice at the back of my mind that his lips are swollen. He backed away from me, suddenly disgusted. Despite this action, there was a layer of hurt beneath the silky surface of his grey orbs. But any regret, any guilt I felt for causing that was quickly washed over by rage as he replied to my unwittingly spoken comment.

"Always knew you were a bit mentally disabled, _goat_." He said bitingly. He walks a few more steps backwards. "If you don't remember, you were the one who kissed me first. I guess hanging out with Potter really has gotten to your head. Seriously, the two of you are like an orphanage club. Charity cases."

"Get out." I snarled, and suddenly, I'm eleven years old again, newly alone in the world and trying my best to fend for myself. I'm breathing heavily again, this time with barely restrained rage. How _dare _he use my parents against me.

"Get the hell out of here, Malfoy, before I hex you straight into the infirmary."

He scoffs, and shoulders his way out of the Restricted Section of the library. Right past Madam Pince.

Madam Pince approached me cautiously. Saffron-Malfoy fights were legendary by now—even more legendary than Potter-Malfoy fights. "Fawn, it's nearly past curfew, I think it's time to—"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm leaving." I almost scream, before storming all the way back to the Gryffindor common room. I flung myself into the safety of my four-poster bed, barely managing to cast a few silencing charms before crying my heart out.

Draco always knew how to get to me.

And this time… this time I had _kissed _him instead of punching him in his sorry face. I flop onto my back and place a trembling hand on my lips. The worst part was, that kiss still tingled in my veins even as my brain was seriously regretting it.

"Fawn, are you okay?" A muffled voice came from the other side of the heavy velvet curtains, and I silently spit out some swear words. In my hurry, I had miscast my silencing charms, so that nothing had happened at all.

"I'm fine." I called out, not able to figure out whom that voice belonged to and honestly, I didn't really care. Not right now.

To my dismay, the curtains were drawn back to reveal not one, but two people: Hermione and Ginny. They immediately took in my tear stained face and puffy eyes, and their familiar faces contorted with worry.

That just made me cry harder.

I sat up, allowing them space on my bed. I desperately wanted to unload my worries on someone, but I knew that if they knew about Draco and I, they'd be horrified. No, more than horrified, they'd feel betrayed. This was Malfoy we were talking about, after all.

"Fawn, you know we're always here if you need to talk, right?" Hermione said gently, reaching over to stroke my hair.

"Cut the bullshit, Hermione, look at her! She definitely needs to talk. Right now." Ginny's voice was assertive and strong, but also held a certain degree of gentleness, and I couldn't help but smile at her bossy side. She had changed.

"I—I just…" Shit, I didn't even know where to begin.

"Is it a boy?" Ginny asked. She was right on the spot, as always. I nodded once.

"And let me guess… you don't want to tell us who it is." Hermione murmured, still stroking my hair soothingly. "It's alright. Just tell us why you're upset, Fawn. Cry your eyes out—we'll always be here."

I refrained from reminding her that I was already crying my eyes out.

"I—we—there's no way—" I sob out through my tears. "But I don't know why—I just—he called me a—"

"This boy…you mentioned something about how 'there's no way'? So you don't _want _to date him. Am I right?" Ginny says, tying her hair up so it's out of her way. She's getting down to business.

"Yeah. He's an awful guy, and—you don't get it. He's the worst person you can imagine for me, but I'm just drawn to him, and I don't know if it's just attraction or something else, but—" Here, I cut myself off. No way. It was definitely not 'something else.'

"Look, I don't care about that," I continued. "It's just tonight, I went and… I k-kissed…"

"You kissed him? Oh, Fawn." Ginny wrapped me up in her arms and mumbled nonsensical things in my ear. She'd make a great mother, I thought.

"Is it Zacharias Smith?" Hermione asks fiercely, her eyes blazing. There was no telling _what _Hermione might do to him if I had nodded. I simply shook my head, smiling a little. No. Zacharias wasn't even _near _Draco's league.

"It doesn't matter," Ginny scolded Hermione. "All we need to know is that Fawn's confused about her feelings for some guy, whom her brain hates but her heart wants. Right?"

I nod, freeing myself out from Ginny's almost suffocating grasp and wiping my tears on my sleeve. They had nearly dried up by now.

"Want to hear my advice? Just stay away from him. Notice some other guys. Practically the whole male population in Hogwarts would kill to have you as their girlfriend." Hermione said, calming down a little now.

"And contrary to popular belief," Ginny cut in dryly, "some of the guys here are actually okay. Maybe you'll find someone who your heart wants _and _your brain likes."

"Thanks, guys." I said weakly. I wrapped both of them up in a huge, bone-crushing hug. "You're the best."

"Don't we know it," Ginny said, winking.

Hermione had already gotten off my bed and was straightening her robes. "Glad to see you're feeling better, Fawn. Now get to bed! It's late."

I let out a hoarse giggle. They left, footsteps growing fainter, and I lay down, eyes wide open in the dark. I toss a little, and there's a thump.

I reach down, underneath the curtains to reach whatever just fell off the bed. My fingers wrap around a warm, leathery bundle. I raise it onto the bed and inspect it, even though I already know what it is. Draco's cloak, the one I _still _hadn't returned to him.

Bar soap and rain and sweet musk, I thought blearily as I fought my leaden eyelids.

It smells like him. And it's then that I realize that I'll never be able to stay away from that fucking arrogant, egoistic, broken, beautiful Slytherin boy.

Doesn't mean I'm not going to try.

**Holy cheese balls—first FawnxDraco kiss! Are you surprised that it was Fawn who initiated it? Haha. I'm not actually used to writing scenes like that: took me quite a while, too. Until next time! :)**

**~Nightingalelynx**


	8. Aftereffects

**Disclaimer: You know the drill by now!**

**Author's Note:**

_Wherein Draco and Fawn learn about amortentia._

**Aftereffects**

"Hello, class!" Professor Slughorn greeted us, breezing into class and sending a totally awkward wink in our direction. "Today, we'll be doing two things. We'll be starting with learning how to brew a Living Death potion—and we'll be having a little competition!"

He grinned brightly, seemingly unaware of the competitive, rather sinister glares the Gryffindors and Slytherins in his class were giving each other. But Professor Slughorn wasn't a stupid man. If anything, he was having this competition to see just who 'deserved' to be in his Slug Club.

"This competition is as such: the student who brews the best Living Death potion gets this vial of Felix Felicis." He holds up a tiny vial, filled to the brim with a light, golden-colored substance. "Does anyone know another name for this?"

Hermione's hand shot up. No one was surprised.

"Yes, miss…?" Professor Slughorn fixed his beady eyes on Hermione.

"Granger, sir," Hermione reported, sitting straighter in her chair. "Another name for this potion would be Liquid Luck."

"Very good, Miss Granger. Yes. This is Liquid Luck—an incredibly rare potion. Whoever drinks this will succeed in whatever they attempt within that day."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Draco sit up straighter. Oh, right. His 'great mission.' Was it possible that Voldemort had given that mission to him? I mused, remembering the way he had flinched when I'd said Voldemort's name. Even though I firmly believed he wasn't a Death Eater, this could still be a possibility—you didn't have to be a Death Eater to be forced to do something for old Voldy.

I was strangely unconflicted by this possibility. I was too busy telling myself not to think about him.

"But beware—it's quite difficult to brew Living Death. Only one other student has ever managed to brew a cauldron of Living Death of good enough quality to be rewarded with this." Slughorn continued, at the front of the classroom.

Draco's jaw clenched in determination, and there was a fire blazing within his grey eyes. He desperately wanted that potion. I was impressed—I don't think Malfoy had ever needed to work for whatever he wanted before.

_Shit, _I scolded myself. _Avoid him, remember? Stop thinking about him!_

"…Good luck to you all!" Slughorn finishes, retiring to his armchair. As soon as he finishes speaking, I was already rushing towards the ingredients cabinet. The Gryffindors were closer to the ingredients than the Slytherins were, so even though Draco had shot upwards almost immediately, he stood no chance against the crowd that blocked him from accessing the cabinet.

I got there first, so I picked out the best of the ingredients available. Perfectly shaped, and easy to handle. I was heading back towards my station when I caught a glimpse of Draco trudging back to his. His ingredients were in pitiful shape—clearly leftovers from the last class who had done this exercise. It would take a genius to make something adequate out of those.

_No, Fawn! _I shouted at myself, again. _Look away. Look away._

He glanced over at Hermione and Harry's station, and I followed his gaze. They were already at work. Harry was reading off a worn, unfamiliar potions book that looked as if it had been retrieved from a junkyard. Both their potions bubbled encouragingly. The altogether too familiar hopelessness descended across his pale face, and I felt my heart sink.

_Avoid him, avoid him, avoid him, _I chanted in my head. _Ugh. Fuck._

He deserved a fighting chance, at least.

"Hey Malfoy," I murmured softly, walking over to his station. A couple of other students glanced over in surprise. I ignored them. He on the other hand barely looked up, and gave me a grunt in reply. "Can I borrow this?"

I reached over the counter to reach for the quill lying nonchalantly nearby, and purposefully stumbled a little, dropping the ingredients in my grasp. At the same time, my arm swept across the table, knocking his ingredients to the floor. My movements had been clumsy and painfully deliberate, but if others hadn't been looking too closely, I should be safe.

Draco cursed, and bent down to retrieve his things, giving me an annoyed glance. My hand shot out, faster than his, and gathered up his beat-up ingredients. "Sorry, Malfoy. My bad. I guess you won't be lending me your quill, then." I said, for pretenses only.

My script sucked, but hey, I was a fantastic liar. I was pretty sure everyone believed my story—everyone except Malfoy, that is. What I did was so blatantly obvious, there wasn't much chance he'd miss it.

He picked up my ingredients with an amazed look on his face, as if he just couldn't believe his own luck. Then he glanced over at me, and his eyes narrowed. I turned my back on him quickly, afraid that he would see right through my act. I started cutting my up ingredients, trying to seem absorbed in my work.

My cheeks burned, and I felt sweaty. Every movement felt awkward and transparent. I looked up impulsively—and breathed a sigh of relief.

Because Draco was already working on his potion, his face puckered adorably in concentration. His cauldron was bubbling up already.

Draco had always been one of the best at potions, even without Snape's biasness.

Hiding a smile, I half-heartedly started working on mine. Before I knew it, time was up. Slughorn was making his way through each row, giving comments. I looked down at mine, and reined in an amused chuckle. My potion was so bad, it was actually funny. Oh, well.

I glanced over at Draco's station. I couldn't see his face, since his back was to me, but he held his head high. Whatever the result was, I was glad he at least had the hope to go through with this.

Slughorn reached Draco, who turned to face him (and by consequence, me). "Very well done, Mr. Malfoy," he said approvingly, dropping some unnamed ingredient into the cauldron. It sizzled a little, before dissolving completely. "This has potential to be the winner. Quite powerful, indeed. But let's get through the whole class, shall we?"

Hearing this, Draco beamed. I heard a telltale sigh from several girls around me, and resisted the urge to do the same. Suddenly, his silver eyes were travelling across the room, from person to person, to land upon… me.

I widened my eyes imperceptibly, and gave him a 'what are you looking at?' look. He raised and eyebrow and gave me a tiny smirk. Apparently, he had figured out my plan. Oops. I'd actually hoped he'd never figure it out, but oh well.

Slughorn had reached my station. "Ah, Miss Saffron, I remember you. You asked me for help last time, for a project, if I remember correctly. Well, well, let's see then." He casually dropped something into my cauldron, and it sunk immediately with a tiny blurp. Someone snickered.

He frowned. "I feel horrible to say this to such a lovely young lady, but this potion probably couldn't make an _ant _go to sleep, much less kill it." He said gravely. "I feel as if you're not giving it your best effort."

I looked directly at him, plastering an upset look on my face. "I know this potion was terribly brewed, and I'm incredibly sorry. I had to start brewing all over again when I messed up, and therefore I didn't have any time at all!" I babbled, blinking up at him with big round eyes. "I'm really very sorry for disappointing you. I promise work up to my best potential next time, Professor."

Yeah okay, I guess you could say one of my talents is bullshitting. Or, if you would like to be a little more polite, you could call it acting.

Professor Slughorn smiled kindly, immediately appeased. "That's quite unfortunate, Miss Saffron. Well, better luck for next time, my dear."

I breathed a sigh of relief.

Slughorn moved on. Suddenly, I caught Malfoy's eye. His eyes were impassive, even though his lips were tugged into an amused smirk. He was still staring intently at me, seemingly unaware that I was looking straight at him. With a shiver, I turned away, just as Slughorn got to Hermione's cauldron.

"Very well done, Miss Granger!" He exclaimed, clapping her on the back. "I think your potion could rival Mr. Malfoy's. The winner be quite difficult to decide. Oh, hello there, Mr. Potter. How are you, my boy?"

"Hello sir," Harry replied politely, readjusting his round glasses so that they sat a little straighter on his nose. "I'm fine, thank you." His jet-black hair was tousled as always, and I couldn't help but grin a little at his dorkiness. That was Harry for you: part-time savior of the wizard race, part-time polite dork.

Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Draco's fists clenching. I swung my head over to look at him, as a sort of natural instinct, when I realized that he was looking directly at me. Our eyes met.

There was a sizzle between us—or maybe that was the herb disappearing almost instantly in Harry's potion.

"That's… that's a perfect brew of Living Death," Slughorn murmured, peering down at Harry's cauldron in shock. He blinked several times. "I daresay a drop of this will kill us all."

I looked at Harry in amazement. All those years I'd been his partner in Potions, he'd never pulled something like this. Harry's boyish grin lit up his face, and I flashed him a thumbs up. He accepted the compliment with a fumbling wink.

The Gryffindors were clapping and looking triumphant as Harry accepted the proffered vial of liquid luck from Slughorn. The Slytherins, understandably, were not. I glanced at Malfoy, and saw him raise his hands. He clapped twice, with a look of grudging respect on his face.

"Well now, that was exciting, wasn't it?" Slughorn said, still clapping. He glanced up at the clock and smiled. "Also, I think we still have time to learn a little about Amortentia. Does anyone know what that is?"

Hermione raised her hand.

Slughorn gave her an amused shake of his head. "Anyone else?" His eyes studied Ron for a moment, then Neville, and then they landed on me. "Miss Saffron! Would you like to answer?"

"Um, it's a potion which causes you to smell the things you love the most." I said quietly, aware of all the eyes upon me. "When consumed, it can cause the drinker to be infatuated with the person who brewed the potion for an amount of time, depending on the strength of the potion."

He nodded. "Exactly." Suddenly, Slughorn was motioning me forwards. "Come on up then, Miss Saffron. Take a whiff. I'm sure many boys in this class are dying to know what you smell."

I blushed a little at this unexpected compliment and quietly made my way up to the front of the classroom. I looked down at the cauldron mistrustfully for a moment, before leaning in to smell it.

For a moment, the smells didn't register in my brain. I was too afraid I'd smell something that reminded me of my parents, and I'd fall apart in front of the whole class.

A deliciously icy scent rushed towards my nose, and I was forced to accept my fate. "So? What do you smell?" Slughorn asked, leaning towards me in anticipation.

I deliberated for a moment. "Snow, mixed with seawater," I said softly, slightly amazed at the realism of the scent. I never knew snow had a smell, but here it was, wafting towards me, bittersweet and achingly familiar.

My parents' favorite season was winter, just like me, and many of my favorite childhood memories involved snow. My favorite pastime, in particular, was going to the beach during winter with my parents. Odd, huh?

A second scent brought me out of those memories and into others. "Burning firewood." I sighed, thinking of all those cozy nights in the Gryffindor common room, next to the crackling fireplace, with my best friends.

The third scent was a heady rush, and for a moment, everything in the room was spinning. I recognized it immediately. It was a mixture of many scents—with one stronger than the others.

Bar soap and rain and sweet musk. It smelt like caviar and all things rich and expensive.

I stuttered to a halt, choking. My eyes flew open, wide and panicky, immediately searching out Draco's. He was leaning forward, propped up on his elbows, staring intently, his face unreadable again.

The smell that overpowered all the other smells was the one that gave it away.

"And… butter beer."

Slughorn droned on and on as he moved along each row, his tattered, disgustingly brown robe squelching as it went. None of the words got through the bubble that was wrapped around Draco's thoughts.

The bubble that was the pretty girl grinning tantalizingly across the room (not at him, of course), with elbows propped up, feet swinging carelessly as she perched on her stool. She was currently staring down at her own cauldron, wearing a smirk that rather resembled Draco's trademark one.

There was no way she had 'accidentally' take his bad ingredients—he had figured that out almost immediately. _Come to think of it,_ Draco thought, _she had practically snatched my ingredients out from right under me, even though the ones she'd dropped were closer to her._

For the life of him, he couldn't understand why she had done that. In all honesty, it would have either been him, or that mudblood Granger. Fawn had been willing to take that risk. Just to—just to what?

She was so unpredictable. Sometimes, she was even predictable, which made her even more unpredictable, if that made any sense. If someone was always unpredictable, that made her predictable.

_Fuck_, Draco thought, half angry, half affectionate. _She's messing with my head._

He had only planned to tease her a little that night at the library, just for fun and just because he couldn't help himself. He had seen her there, at the restricted section after a whole day of trying to get her to talk to him, and saw his chance. Okay fine, maybe he had meant to grope her a little too, but still. He hadn't expected anything to come out of it. He had expected her to scoff and walk away.

But before he could get to any of that, she was asking him about things that hit way too close to home and he was (sort-of) answering her questions and trying not to spill his heart out, and suddenly he had a handful of squirming, fumbling, eager Fawn.

And it had been so glorious, so frightening, so beautiful that he tried to just concentrate on the pleasure of it, but failed.

When Fawn had shoved him away roughly, spitting hurtful things at him, it had been too painful for Draco, both on a physical (ahem) and emotional level. Her honey brown hair tousled, cheeks flushed pink, eyes bright, and gasping for air—it was a sight Draco wished he could see everyday.

She had stormed away and Draco thought he had seen the last of her.

But here she was, in Potions, acting as if nothing had happened, even though she had defended him, kissed him, fought him, and helped him, all in the space of 24 hours.

"That's a perfect brew of Living Death," Slughorn was saying to Potter. Draco inhaled sharply, realizing defeat. Nowadays, he was too familiar with that emotion to give it much thought.

But _she _was grinning affectionately at Harry Potter, the way she would never grin at Draco. His fists clenched unconsciously as he simultaneously wished he could both beat Harry Potter up and _be _Harry Potter. The words she had unwittingly said echoed in Draco's head. "_My reputation would be ruined if I were to be found with you."_

It was true, and it drove him mad. She drove him mad.

But then again, he didn't _want _to be found with her. Right? Except when they were fighting, that is.

Draco gave a start when his brain registered bright brown eyes staring straight into his. How long had she been staring back? Fuck—he hadn't realized he had been staring in the first place. But before he could turn away or even react in any way, Fawn had shuddered a little and turned away.

_Great, now she thinks I'm a creep,_ Draco thought. Then, he added sarcastically: _Oh, the fucking woes of Draco Malfoy._

He tuned back into the real world again, just as the slender girl was making her way to the front of the class. Slughorn was waiting for her, a toothy smile in place as she leaned over the cauldron.

"What do you smell?" He asked, a little too eagerly for Draco's liking. Which was just as well—it reminded him not to look too interested. He tore his gaze from Fawn's face and looked around. That was when he noticed something no one else had.

Dumbledore himself, standing in the corner. He gazed upon this classroom, looking deep in thought. Rationally, he had probably been waiting to have a word with Slughorn, but found that he was a little too early.

However, Draco was far from rational at this stage. His eyes widened in panic as he swiveled his head the other way. What if the old man had figured out what Draco was trying to do? What if he was here to expose him as a Death Eater? The Slytherin boy's palms began to sweat, and his knees felt like they were going to give away soon. He stole another glance at the Headmaster.

The Headmaster looked so normal, so alive, it was quite difficult for Draco to wrap his mind around the fact that if he had his way, Dumbledore would be dead. It was either Draco and his mother, or Dumbledore. Somehow, that didn't alleviate the shame and guilt and crippling anxiety he felt every time Draco looked at the old man. So he simply… didn't. Turning to face the front of the class again, Draco discovered that Fawn was listing the smells that she smelled.

"Snow," she murmured softly, eyes closed in bliss. "…Mixed with seawater."

Draco's eyebrows shot upwards. He would have thought, given her DNA, that seawater would have a spot of its own. The fact that it was mixed with snow, well, that was just bizarre. Draco scoffed silently. What, did she go to the beach during winter or something?

Wisps of Fawn's hair had fallen out of her bun, and Draco gulped, suddenly resisting the urge to march right up to her and brushing those strands of hair away. And maybe kissing the parts of her neck that he'd have exposed upon doing so. And then kissing downwards—or upwards, it didn't matter, until—

—"Burning firewood," she continued, clearly lost in the memories each scent brought her. Draco pulled himself out of his thoughts immediately, feeling his cheeks burn faintly, as well as an uncomfortable tightening of his pants. Her eyes were still closed, and her skin glowed in the dim lighting of the dungeon classroom. Clearly, to other boys in the class, she looked like an angel fallen from freaking heaven.

Draco cast a few glances around the classroom, just to see who, exactly, had a mini crush on her, this freak of nature.

_Bet you wouldn't have guessed that this same girl was kissing me in the restricted section of the library just yesterday, _Draco thought smugly, imagining throwing that fact in each and every one of their faces. There was a surprising number of Slytherin boys included in the list, too, he noted.

As Fawn inhaled again, everyone was lingering onto her every word. Suddenly, the girl swayed and had to grab hold of the edge of the cauldron for support. Gasping, she then staggered backwards, eyes flying open. They were wide, and haunted. And they gazed straight at Draco for an infinite moment, as if it was his fault, until she dragged her gaze away, so that their cover wouldn't be blown.

"And… butter beer." She finished, clearly dismayed.

Huh. Wouldn't peg her as an alcoholic, Draco thought, not catching on for a moment. He had shoved that memory so far down into the recesses of his mind that he'd nearly forgotten (as was his goal). Then, he remembered, since it was impossible to fully forget. Butter beer. The Leaky Cauldron.

Draco's throat dried up instantly.

Oh.

Oh.

_Oh._

The other students were beginning to file out of the classroom, when none other than Headmaster Dumbledore's voice rang out from one corner of the class. "Hello there, Horace!"

Several students jumped. Notably, Draco was among them.

"Ah, Headmaster, good to see you." Slughorn replied, clearly caught off guard as well. "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

"If you don't mind, I'd like to borrow Fawn for a moment." My head snapped up at the mention of my name, and I gave my foster father my best smile—which wasn't very happy at the moment, due to the turmoil in my own head.

There was no doubt about it. Butter beer? The only time I'd tried it recently was with Draco, at the Leaky Cauldron. And I sure as hell hadn't developed a fondness for hangovers or Death Eaters.

"Well," Slughorn replied in his quavering tone. "Since class is over, you aren't really_ borrowing_ her from my class anymore!" He let out a nervous chuckle. "Go on, then, Miss Saffron! Hopefully you haven't been doing anything naughty!"

I slung my bag over my shoulder (it was one of those cheap shoulder-bags from Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment), and trudged over to where Dumbledore was waiting.

"Hi, Dumbledore," I greeted him, smiling to the best of my ability. Ever since the age of eleven, Dumbledore had taken me in as his own and had given me a place to live, here in Hogwarts. He'd helped me deal with my own grief, bullies, growing up, all without patronizing me as the Headmaster. He was like the missing father-figure—no, uncle-figure I needed, albeit with less strict house rules. For that, I was extremely grateful to him.

When I got to him, he promptly wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "To be honest, I was here to talk to Horace, but I found something much more interesting instead." He let out a good-natured chuckle. "So Horace can wait—I'd just like to know, Fawn—any boys you've got your eye on?"

I choked on empty air—both at his direct and abrupt approach, and also on the uncanny accuracy of his eye.

"N-no?" I lied, stammering a little. My fluent lying skills were apparently on hold. I was too taken off guard, too confused about my own feelings for Draco.

Draco. He was still at his desk, giving his fellow Slytherin friends a few grunts and nods in response to their chatter. There was a veil across his pale, defined face. He was tugging on his sweater, and I could see each wooly strand stretching elastically quite clearly from here.

"Are you quite sure about that?" Dumbledore stooped a little, so that his face was at my eye-level. I glanced towards him—and immediately realized my mistake. He was gazing in the direction that I had unconsciously been looking, where Draco was stood, in the center of his group of friends.

There was a twinkle in Dumbledore's faded blue eyes.

I followed his gaze again, forcing myself to stay calm, which was pretty hard. This was like my worst nightmare come true. Not only was it embarrassing, it was also magnified because this was the adult-figure I looked up to.

"W-what, him?" I widened my eyes and forced a sneer onto my face. "No way in h—no way, Dumbledore, you know that." I bit back a swear word, just in time.

"He's quite a good-looking boy, isn't he?" He asked, in reply to my heated (and admittedly rather panicked) statement.

Now _that_ was an understatement, but I wasn't going to tell him that. "Sure, I guess, but he's still a slimy old g—" I was cut off by Dumbledore, who was still talking in an infuriatingly mild tone, as if he was talking about what we had for breakfast.

"Oh, and I quite like butter beer too, especially the ones they serve at the Leaky Cauldron, but aren't you and Mr. Malfoy a bit too young to be drinking?" Dumbledore was straightening up again, giving me a quick pat on the shoulders, bundled with a quick wink.

Shit. And I hoped I was the only one who made that connection. I stood there, speechless, searching for something to say. Meanwhile, the Slytherins made their way to the door, bustling Draco along with them. I forced myself to look away, and instead looked searchingly at Dumbledore.

Was he angry? Disappointed? Betrayed?

None of those emotions showed on his face. His gaze had been following Draco during my silence, but as he glanced at me, his face softened with undeniable fondness, as well as amusement. There was also a rather melancholy tone in his voice when he next spoke up.

"Keep this in mind, Fawn." Dumbledore was already gathering up his robes and heading towards the doorway. He glanced back, just before he disappeared out of my sight. "The only thing worse than a boy who hates you might well be a boy who loves you. Don't break his heart, Fawn, or who knows _what_ he'll do."

With that little warning, plus a flourish of his cloak, Dumbledore disappeared, leaving me feeling more confused than ever.

**Well, then. A filler chapter to state the obvious. Unfortunately, Fawn isn't going to jump into Draco's arms just like that. She's a stubborn girl. **

**Also, Dumbledore makes an appearance. He was revealed as not much of a saint by the end of the Harry Potter series, but he was one to Fawn. Just thought I'd let you guys know.**

**~Nightingalelynx**


	9. Hot Water

**Author's Note:**

_In which Murphy's Law applies to Fawn, and she lands herself in hot water._

**Hot Water**

Ginny screamed, a string of vowels streaming from her lips.

A series of thumps.

Silence.

Well, not really. There was a huge, collective intake of breath. All eyes turned to the top of one of the staircases. The other staircases stopped moving as well. They hung in midair, seemingly shocked.

It was a day before the first Quidditch game of the year, and Gryffindor's best chaser, Ginny Weasley, was lying in a red-and-gold heap at the bottom of the second moving staircase.

"Bloody hell! Ginny, are you alright?" Ron recovered his senses first and rushed to help his sister. She gave a groan, and tried to stand up. She let out a second scream and would have collapsed on top of her broken leg if not for Harry, who had been next on the scene.

"We've got to get you to the hospital wing!" Harry's face was filled with overwhelming concern.

Hermione and I glanced at each other. Sure, we all had a nasty jolt when the staircase started moving, but after five years of seeing Ginny's near perfect balance, we found it pretty hard to believe that she'd fall down a whole flight of stairs due to a slight bump. Ginny had been behind us, yet the force of her fall had sent her flying straight past us. A simple tripping up wouldn't have provided the push necessary.

Instead of rushing to help Ginny, we swiveled our heads towards the top of the staircase, where Ginny had been standing previously. Four distinctly green shapes stood there. Three out of four had dark hair, but the one standing smack in the middle had white-blond hair.

Draco Malfoy. The boy who, according to the amortentia potion, I was madly in love with.

Hermione and I were close enough to see their expressions, and although both Malfoy and Nott's expressions were kept carefully blank, Goyle and Pansy had a satisfied smirk on their faces. Of course, this told us all we needed to know. After all, tomorrow's game was Slytherins versus Gryffindor.

"Hermione! Fawn! Help us out, won't you?" Ron called up to us. He was struggling to make a path through the crowd of people who had come to see what happened. Ron wasn't a leader. Harry might've been a good leader, but he had his hands full with Ginny's groaning form.

I cast yet another glance up at the small gang of Slytherins. Normally, I would probably storm right up to where they were and give them a piece of my mind. The ugliest piece available. I was angry. Hell, I was fucking furious.

But Draco was there, and after my slipup yesterday (I should never have mentioned the third smell), I was reluctant to talk to him. If I made a scene, he might expose the true meaning behind the third smell to the rest of Hogwarts.

I'd be humiliated. He would win. In that order.

I looked over at Hermione, whose nose was flaring slightly, as it always does when she's angry. She pursed her lips and took one step up the stairs, towards the suspects. I gritted my teeth, deliberated for a split second, and tugged on her sleeve.

"Let's go help Ginny," I mumbled in her ear, feeling like a traitor. She glanced over at me, wide-eyed, but she followed me without comment. She probably expected an explanation later, one that I'd have to bullshit my way through. To be fair, though, she was the one who told me to avoid him.

Fifteen minutes later, we had ended up in the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey was tending to Ginny, who was clenching her fists through both the pain but mostly the frustration.

"Well, then. That was quite a nasty fall, wasn't it, dear? A fractured wrist, a possible concussion on the head, and a broken leg." Madam Pomfrey tutted as she bustled about, gathering the herbs and everything. Healing work had always been confusing to me, and I had no idea what she was doing.

Ginny cleared her throat. "Will I be able to play tomorrow?"

Of course those would be her first words since her fall. I smirk a little, proudly, and watch my friends do the same. But our hearts plummeted when Madam Pomfrey shook her head.

"Maybe, if the match were one or two days after tomorrow. But tomorrow—! I can't allow you to risk your health like that, Miss Weasley. It's too dangerous."

I look over at my friend, and she's clearly devastated. "B-But, Madam Pomfrey, please, it's Gryffindor against Slytherin tomorrow, and I'm chaser—"

"I know, darling, and I'm sorry too. But I can't allow you onto the fields tomorrow." There was a note of finality in Madam Pomfrey's voice. "Now drink this, if you want to recover at all." She tilts a vial of purple liquid towards Ginny.

Who ignored the proffered medicine and fixes the rest of us with a glare. "Guys—go. We need to find a replacement chaser."

"B-but, you're our best chaser!" Ron's eyes were wide.

"I'll try my best to get on the field, but—" Here, Madam Pomfrey shakes her head again. Ginny ignores her. "—But we need to be prepared for the worst."

"It's _tomorrow, _how in the name of Merlin are we supposed to do that?" Harry says, shaking his head in disbelief. To be honest, I agreed with him. Suddenly, I had an idea. I tugged on Madam Pomfrey's sleeve, and widened my eyes, biting my lip.

Behind her, Ron rolled his eyes. "Here she goes again," he mumbled to Harry, smirking a little. I ignored him, that ungrateful Weasley.

"Please, Madam Pomfrey, the game tomorrow is very important to us. And it won't be fair if she's not playing. Her injuries aren't life threatening—and you're a very good healer, I'm sure you can heal her by tomorrow. We promise we'll pull her out of the game at the first sign of any fatigue, or weakness, or… or…" I trailed off here, forcing a couple of tears into my eyes.

Crocodile tears. I was good at those.

Madam Pomfrey's face softened, a reaction I expected. The question was: was it enough for her to reconsider her decision? She pursed her lips, and glanced back towards Ginny, who scrambled to sit up, eyes bright with hope and determination.

"Oh, alright then." Madam Pomfrey sighed. "I'll make you a deal—after Ginny drinks this potion, if she's able to stand up without any problem—on one leg, of course, her leg can't be healed so quickly—by my medical experience, that means that her concussion be relatively fine by tomorrow."

"Great!" Ron cheered, and Hermione and Harry grinned with relief. Ginny drank the potion in one big gulp, making a face at its taste. Then, she nearly threw herself off the bed in her hurry to prove herself. Her hands gripped the side of the bed as she struggled to keep her balance on one foot.

And then her eyes rolled upwards a little, and she stumbled forwards.

Harry and Ron both jumped in to catch her, which resulted in a massive collision. There was a ridiculously loud clunk when their heads smashed together, but they had gotten Ginny safely (sort of) in their arms.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head regretfully. "The injury to her head is quite serious—if she plays on the field tomorrow, there may be permanent damage. I'm sorry, but I can't let you do that."

Ginny, now fully conscious and safely back on her hospital bed, gave Harry a push. "Go!" She ordered, looking angrier than she had ever looked, although that anger was probably directed at herself. "Call a new round of tryouts, Harry James Potter! Hurry up!" She looked like she was about to blow steam out of her ears.

The four of us sprinted out of the hospital wing.

Thirty minutes later, the candidates were standing in front of Harry, on an open field. They were all guys, all bewildered, and all hungry. We had stolen them away from their lunch, after all.

"I'm assuming all of you know how to play Quidditch?" Harry says briskly, running his fingers through his hair, emerald eyes flashing.

There were a few confident nods, but also a few nervous grins.

Hermione and I stood at the sidelines, with our arms crossed as we watched Harry bark out a few orders. The candidates respond hesitantly, getting onto their various brooms. Ron was beside Harry, along with the rest of the team. His face was set in a scowl so deep that looked like it might be etched into his face soon. Katie Bell scratched her shoulder.

"No offense, but this is looking grim." I remarked to Hermione, wincing as the second player so far fell off his broom. It wasn't that these guys were bad flyers—they just had no practice at all. They didn't even know the basic formations or the tactics of the Gryffindor team, and as a result were caught off guard.

"Yeah." She sighed. "Hey, Fawn," Hermione was turning towards me, and I knew what she was going to ask before she asked it. "You knew just as well as me that the Slytherins were the ones who pushed Ginny down the staircase. Why didn't you let me go chew them out?"

"I—well, the thing is…" Why is it that when it comes to Draco Malfoy, I was always tongue-tied? Even when I'm not a talking to him.

Seamus Finnigan gave a yell as the broom part of his broomstick caught on fire, and Hermione's attention was diverted there. She cast a quick charm that put out the fire, and helped him to safety. I smirked, feeling relieved. Saved by Seamus' explosions. Some things never change.

Suddenly, Hermione's eyes were lighting up. "You go, Fawn! You've been at every one of their practices—you know the Gryffindor tricks! I'm sure the rest will come easily."

I scoffed, brushing it off as a bad joke. "What, me? No way." But Hermione was adamant. And when Hermione's adamant, she always gets her way. Besides, if I continued to stand in the sidelines with Hermione, she might just remember to interrogate me on the Slytherin incident.

Before I knew it, I found myself holding the worn wooden handle of a borrowed broomstick, looking up at the clear blue sky.

"Go!" Hermione hissed. "Go, Fawn Melody Saffron, for Merlin's sake!"

I raised an eyebrow at her, trying to hide my apprehension. "Melody? Where did that come from?" This new me had no middle names. I used to have one, once (it wasn't Melody). But… then stuff changed. My parents died. I changed my surname, just because I didn't want everyone pitying me when I started school. Even since I was little, I had been so very aware of what others thought of me.

"I made it up just to sound more threatening." Hermione admitted, and I was pulled out of the past. "But even if you don't have a middle name, I can still hex your ass to all the way to the moon. Go. Please? For us?" She batted her eyelashes, even though she'd have better luck with doing that to Ron than to me.

As a matter of fact… I studied her, eyes narrowed. "Are you mocking me?"

"Yes!" She threw her hands up as if I'd just found the cure to cancer. "Because you're too much of a wimp to go try out!"

I gave a half-hearted shrug. "Well, you'll soon realize that me on a broomstick is basically like a fish out of water." Oh, the irony. Ha. Ha.

I got on my broom, trying not to tremble. I said: "Up." And up we went. My brain suddenly seemed strangely detached from my body: it was functioning, but none of my emotions seemed to be working.

A Quaffle was sent flying towards me, and I caught it deftly. Okay, I told myself. I'm all right at hand-eye-coordination. Well, not really. My rule was this: get anything that flies towards my face _the fuck away _from my face_._ Simple enough.

I sent the Quaffle flying towards one of the hoops—vaguely, I wondered if that was even the right hoop. But it didn't matter. It went through.

A bludger flew my way, careening out of control.

Something coming towards my face, my brain registered. Get rid of it, it told me in a strangely robotic way. I reached out, clenching my thighs tighter around the broomstick so as not to fall off and—caught it. The jolt shook the entire broom, and for a moment, my broom was angled vertically—I was staring into the sun.

That's a blue, blue sky. I thought. I tossed the struggling bludger away. I dipped my broom and went in for a landing.

It wasn't until my feet touched the ground—solid, firm, unyielding ground, that my eyes registered everyone else's shock. Players were frozen in midair, mouths gaping. Harry's eyes were wide.

As always, Ron recovered from his shock first. "Bloody hell, Fawn! That was amazing!"

"It was?" I croaked, not convinced in the slightest.

Harry smiled warmly, and came over to wrap me up in a big, leathery hug. He smelled like grass. "Welcome to the team, Fawn."

I offer an unconvincing smile. Shit. I was in.

"Defense against the dark arts is a skill. And as with most skills, you need practice to become…" Here, Snape gave one of his infamous airy pauses, to build anticipation. "…Perfect."

I was busy doodling in my notebook, trying to avoid Draco's gaze. Because this was D.A.D.A, and there were arranged seatings. And my seat, unfortunately, was still next to Draco's.

My hair fell in a curtain, and I was so busy being busy that I had completely forgotten to at least _pretend _to pay attention in class. A loud slam jolted me out of my thoughts, which ran along the lines of this: 1) Draco Malfoy 2) Quidditch 3) Quidditch 4) Draco Malfoy 5) Did I mention Malfoy yet?

My life had been relatively carefree before these double tragedies struck, so now all I could think about was… well, my problems. Draco and Quidditch.

"… does she need a bucket of ice thrown on her head?" Snape was drawling back in the real world. He had slammed both hands on my desk, and then leaned down to give me a menacing glare. Fortunately for me, my attention span hadn't been long enough to witness all of that.

I shot up like a clap of thunder. "No, sorry, I was—er, I was thinking, Sna—I mean, Professor Snape." I stammered. Beside me, Draco gave a nasty chuckle. And suddenly, all my fury and confusion came rushing back.

"What was that, Malfoy?" I hissed, rounding on him.

"Anger!" Snape interrupted loudly. "Perfect. If you had been listening to my lesson, Miss Saffron, you'd have realized that I was looking for a volunteer for a duel. And the two of you have just offered yourselves up."

Dueling, eh? This I can do. Dueling was my forte, after all. But then I paused. Here's the problem that I realized: dueling requires concentration and quick decisions, and I would be dueling against Draco Malfoy. When dealing with Draco Malfoy, all that I ever do is get distracted and be indecisive.

"Actually, Professor." Draco's voice cut in suddenly. Was it my imagination, or was there a bit of bitterness laced under the word _'professor'_? Either way, Draco continued to speak. "I'd like to duel against Potter, if you don't mind."

"Well, that's a disaster in the making." I blurt out before I get a chance to filter my mouth, but luckily the class chuckles. They seemed to agree.

"Well of course it is, Miss Saffron. Duels are nothing short of destructive. Since you're obviously so… _unfamiliar _with dueling, I think Draco's idea is sound. Potter, Malfoy, get ready. You begin in three minutes."

Harry's got that determined, 'this-is-my-duty' look on his face again. Me, on the other hand, I'm just wishing that I had interrupted Malfoy and gone dueling. Maybe I would break a leg or something. Maybe then I wouldn't have to play in tomorrow's game.

Just my luck.

Two minutes and twenty three seconds later (no, I hadn't been counting, Hermione was), the two lads were on the platform, flexing their biceps like wrestling champions. I refrained from reminding them that wizard dueling only required wrists, not your entire freaking arms.

"Ready…" Snape warned from the edge of the platform. The rest of the students were gathered at the two sides of the platform: one side for Harry, the other for Malfoy. So basically—Gryffindor versus Slytherin. It was all very intense.

"Steady…" I spared a glance at Harry, and found that he was busy brushing a tuft of jet-black hair out of the way. That was all I saw, though, before my gaze was drawn to Dra—I mean, Malfoy.

_Avoid him! _I snapped to myself, tired of my own lack of discipline.

There was that aristocratic, 'i-dare-you-to' smirk on his face again, and I realized that for once he seemed back to normal. As in, back to the old him. And I must say, I wasn't too pleased.

_Yes, yes, stay that way. Don't _like _him, for Merlin's sake Fawn._

I've officially gone crazy. I gave him another peek.

He didn't have the same problem with his hair as Harry did. His hair was perfectly tousled, I noticed, not sleek with hair gel and whatnot, but natural, as if he had woken up like that. And he was biting his definitely bitable bottom lip in concentration as he got into a ready stance, accentuating the strong lines of his jaw and the oh-so-gorgeous way his shoulders tilted forwards, and—

My wildly running thoughts were interrupted when Snape barked a "Go!" and the two boys were at it. It was as if Snape had fulfilled his earlier promise and actually thrown a bucket of ice water on me. I gasped, startled, and Ron gave me an odd look.

Harry took the first hit, but he rolled quickly to his feet and sent a disarming spell back at Malfoy, who dodged lithely out of the way.

The Slytherin side cheered. Harry threw a badly aimed "stupefy"—the first worded spell in the duel, which Malfoy dodged as well. What he didn't expect, though, was for Harry to send a second, wordless spell right after it. Draco fell with a thump, but he stumbled to his feet. A third spell from Harry blasted from his wand, and suddenly Draco was drenched in water. On a roll now, Harry hit Draco with a fourth spell. Oh, yes. The platinum haired boy looked pissed, now.

Us Gryffindors cheered.

And then, everything went downhill.

"_Conjunctivitis_!" Draco hissed. It hit Harry right between the eyes, who gave a pained yell, clutching at his face. Beside me, Hermione and Ron stiffened. The follow-up curse was just as bad. "_Engorgio_!"

Harry frantically cast counter charms on himself, so he shrunk back down to size. "_Glisseo," _Draco added quickly, pointing his wand at the floor directly under Harry, so that the moment he'd managed to counter the 'engorgio' charm, he slid and fell. Right at Malfoy's feet.

Harry grunted, and tried to lift himself up, but Malfoy gave him a sharp jab to the ribcage with his wand. My eyes widened. No physical combat during wizard dueling! Malfoy had broken a rule!

Harry lifted his wand and sent a spell flying towards Malfoy, who winced as it grazed his arm, but was relatively unharmed. "Come and get me, Potter." Malfoy taunted. Harry sent another spell flying towards his opponent—Malfoy dodged it successfully. "Is that the best you can do?" Came Malfoy's next sneer, followed up with another "_glisseo."_

He was baiting him. And Harry, that hotheaded boy, he fell for it.

Infuriated now, Harry lunged at Malfoy. It was so very typical of Harry, who was impulsive despite his usual mildness. The two boys grappled, with Harry getting the upper hand at first. There was a sickening crunch, as Harry's fist connected with Malfoy's cheekbone. Both their faces were taut with ruthlessness and anger, lips thinned into one line of fury.

I shot a desperate look at Snape, wondering why he wasn't stopping this madness yet. It was against the rules! He stood, a frown only starting to appear on his hook-nosed face. Beside me, Hermione gasped, in response to another punch Draco sent. "Harry! Are you okay?"

Ron opted for a different shout: "Malfoy, you bloody—"

Malfoy's eyes never left Harry Potter's. I looked around us, seeking help from the others, but they were frozen solid, eyes wide, uncertain. On the platform, both boys continued trading blows. I had had enough.

"DRACO MALFOY!" I shrieked, furious beyond belief. "YOU CHEATING, COWARDLY, BASTARD, SCUMBAG OF A—"

This time, Malfoy looked up, apparently recognizing my voice. It was only for an instant, but it gave Harry his needed opportunity.

He sent a vicious kick straight between Malfoy's legs, who crumpled in half with a bellow of agony. Harry, who hadn't expected it to work quite so well, had another punch lined up. It slammed into Malfoy's gut, before he withdrew it quickly, a guilty look flashing across his features.

Snape swept into the scene, just as Harry staggered backwards and retrieved his wand, wiping blood off his nose in the process. Malfoy was still clutching at his groin, groaning in pain while swearing enough to make Professor Binns wake up from the dead (though technically, he wasn't dead yet).

"Potter!" He snapped. "Detention! Tomorrow, 9 a.m. sharp!" His black-eyed gaze travelled to Malfoy. "Someone get Malfoy to the hospital wing." He added emotionlessly.

No one stepped forwards.

"I'll take him, then." He snarled, hoisting the white-blond haired boy up. He turned, preparing to leave.

But there was one problem.

"But Professor!" Ron bellowed after him, causing him to stop. "The Quidditch game is tomorrow, at 10! It's Gryffindor versus—"

"I am well aware of that, Mr. Weasley," Snape says humorlessly. "Class dismissed." Then, he left without sparing a glance back at the furiously shouting Gryffindors.

"He can't keep doing this!" Ron snarls furiously, face red with anger. He clambered up the platform and went straight to Harry. I followed suit immediately. "We can't lose you, too, Harry! We're screwed!"

"Yeah, but technically I _did _use physical contact first, so there's no way we can argue against detention," Harry said glumly. "The best we can hope for is that Malfoy gets detention too, which I don't see much point in wasting time on."

I nodded vigorously in agreement. If we wasted the rest of the day arguing, we wouldn't have enough time to prepare for the game tomorrow. Two of the best members of the team wouldn't be on the field tomorrow: we needed as much advantage as possible.

"Then who the hell are we going to use as seeker? Ginny was the backup!" Ron shouted, as the rest of the Gryffindors crowded around us. They clamored for attention, shouting out ideas (but mostly threats to the Slytherins who were slowly trickling out of the room).

"Shut up!" Hermione demanded, and there was a brief moment of quiet. "Fawn will do it."

I blinked. "I will?"

"Yes! You've all seen how good she was during the tryouts, right? Dean was pretty good this morning; we'll use him as chaser. We have no other choice!"

"No—Hermione, I don't think it's such a good time to mention this, but—" I countered, shaking my head desperately. Shit. That was a very, very bad idea, in more ways than one. Now if Hermione would just listen—

Everyone else nodded in agreement, satisfied.

"But—"

But no one seemed to care. After all, they had seen me out in the field today, even if it was for a brief moment. What could possibly go wrong? And anyways, we were late to class. Now that the problem was seemingly solved, they rushed away, frantically packing their bags and running to their next class.

"What's wrong, Fawn?" Harry asked, touching my elbow as we headed out towards the hallway. I gave a sigh of relief. Finally someone was willing to listen to me.

"Harry, I know I seemed like I could handle it, out on the field today, but—"

"Don't worry, Fawn. We all get the jitters sometimes. You'll do fine." Hermione interrupted. "Stop trying to get out of it! We really need your help, okay?"

"Wait." Harry held up a hand. "Let her talk."

"But Harry! Malfoy's the seeker! Even if we can let go of our Gryffindor pride in the face of such infortune, we _can't _let _him _of all people beat us! We need Fawn!" Hermione protested loudly, clearly remembering the fishy circumstances under which Ginny broke her leg.

I swallowed. "Wait, what? Didn't Dra—Malfoy, didn't he quit?" I asked, suddenly unsure.

Ron shrugged, catching up to us. "Guess he changed his mind, didn't he?"

I stalled. For some inexplicable reason, I desperately wanted to be there. With _him_, on the Quidditch field. The rush of wind against my face, looking into the blue, blue sky, and into his silver-grey eyes.

I craved to know what it would feel like.

And so, even though I knew it was a very, very bad idea, I gave Harry a nonchalant shake of my head.

"Never mind, Harry. I'll be on the field tomorrow."

**Uh-oh. How impulsive of her. She's afraid of heights, remember? And did you notice? Fawn wasn't scared during the tryouts because she was looking into the '**blue, blue sky**' the whole time; what happens when she looks down?**

**Also, thank you all for your kind words. It keeps me motivated to keep writing this story, and every review makes my day. :)**

**~Nightingalelynx**


	10. The Quidditch Match

**Author's Note:**

_Sorry this is so late, I've been super busy and this chapter's been pretty difficult to write. I think I've rewritten it about five times now. Yikes! Anyways, you'll finally get to see the repercussions of Fawn's actions from last chapter. Enjoy!_

**The Quidditch Match**

"So, I hear _Potty _has managed to find a new seeker out of those Gryffindorks they call wizards." A familiar drawling voice crawled down the hallway, accompanied by several pairs of clip-clopping dragon-skin shoes.

I ducked into a shadowy corner, hoping they would be too dumb to notice me there. I had been wallowing in the dungeons by myself, wondering _why-on-earth _I told Harry I was fine with playing Quidditch. How could I lie right through my teeth to him, my best friend?

Not to mention he would be furious at me once he found out the truth.

"Yes, I wonder who it is?" Blaise Zambini's voice made me tune back into the real world. "I mean, our timing was perfect. It should have been impossible to find a proper replacement!"

Ha. I knew it. They had done it, and they had even admitted it, right in front of my eyes. Those Slytherin prats.

"She's probably really dumb, and has zits." Pansy snickered. "Don't worry, boys, we took their main players out already, they don't stand a chance."

"_She?" _Malfoy said sharply. "I thought they'd pick that half-blood, what's his face? Dean?" I resisted the urge to sneer. Yeah, that's right, Malfoy. It's a _she, _you sexist, racist prick. And _she _is going to do everything she can to beat you tomorrow.

"Yeah," Pansy replied eagerly, probably realizing that she knew something Malfoy didn't. She lowered her voice a little, to a volume appropriate for gossiping. "It's a _she, _and they seem to think she's perfect. And apparently she's friends with Potter."

"Who isn't?" Malfoy retorted. The footsteps grew closer. Any minute now, they would pass by my hiding place. Childishly, I considered jumping out at them. But then again, the cons of that action outweighed the pros.

"Friends with Potter?" Zambini mused. I could see Malfoy now as he passed by, clear as day, and I shrank into the corner even further, hoping he wouldn't see me. The others followed him, a few careful steps behind. "There's no way it's that Granger girl, she hasn't touched a broom since first year."

At this comment, Malfoy stopped abruptly, almost tripping over himself. His eyes, one of which marred by a purplish bruise in the shape of Harry's fist (from yesterday), went wide as saucers, and he seemed to have trouble breathing. And he was standing just outside my hiding place.

"No _fucking _way," Malfoy breathed after a pause. I paused; appreciating the way he pronounced that word, gasping out the 'f' and the way his pink tongue darted out to wet his lips afterwards…

"Why? What's wrong, Drakey?" Pansy purred, catching hold of his bicep.

I resisted a snort, my former appreciation replaced almost instantly by a more dangerous mix of anger, bitterness, and repulsion.

Suddenly, his eyes were darting to and fro. "You guys go first. I have something I need to take care of." When they didn't move, he gestured sharply with his head. "Go!" He snapped, and the others scampered off, giving him weird looks.

Now that his cronies were gone, Malfoy seemed lost in thought. "What on earth were you thinking, Fawn?" He muttered under his breath.

I froze. Wait. Did he know I was here? Was he talking to me? He wasn't looking at me, but who knows? I had half a mind to answer his question.

But before I could, he spun around and started walking in the opposite direction, and as if I could suddenly read his mind, I knew almost instantly that he was heading towards the Gryffindor common rooms. To look for me.

There was a strange combination of thrill and terror circling in my chest. The blood pounded in my veins, and in a sudden fit of boldness, I stepped out from my shadow, directly into the middle of the hallway.

I thought I had been pretty quiet, but the moment I took that one little step, Draco Malfoy stiffened, and stopped in his tracks. His back muscles tensed, becoming well defined under that grey suit of his. His breathing echoed across that short distance, loud and clear and erratic.

"Why were you spying on me, Saffron?" He asked, after a moment. He doesn't turn around.

"Why did you push Ginny down the stairs?" I countered, not bothering to tell him that I wasn't, in fact, spying on him.

His fists clenched. "_I _didn'_t, they _did." He defended himself. I raise an eyebrow. The Malfoy I knew usually laps up all the credit for anything at all, even if he didn't cause it at all.

But then again, he was probably lying in this case. After all, they were _his _cronies. I told him so.

He spins around, and shakes his head earnestly, letting bits of blond hair fall into his eyes. "No, Fawn, they don't—" He stopped. Looked at me. Blinked.

He opened his mouth, and then shut it again, apparently thinking better of it. "Fine. I pushed Weaselette down the stairs, and I baited Potter into using his fists. I had hoped they'd cancel the game tomorrow, because I had important things to do. Now _excuse me._"

He brushed past me, walking fast, a weird half-smirk on his face. I breathed in, smelling bar soap and rain and sweet musk, and immediately anger began bubbling up in my chest.

"You had no right to do that." I growled, reaching out in a flash and latching onto his bicep, much like Pansy had done just a moment ago. Except this time, I was digging my (practically nonexistent) nails into flesh as hard as possible.

"I'll take you down tomorrow if it's the last thing I do, _Malfoy_."I spat his last name out, determined to make it taste as bitter as possible. "And _then _you'll be sorry." I take care to crinkle the cloth of his sleeve as much as possible before shoving him away.

There must have been something in my eyes that made him believe my bluff, because suddenly, he looks slightly apprehensive.

I'd gotten rid of his smile. Was I really that petty? Hell, yeah.

The Quidditch game came even faster than I had expected, and trust me, I was already expected it to come much too quickly. Before I knew it, Katie Bell was pushing me into the locker room and handing me a set of spare Quidditch protection equipment to wear over my school uniform.

I looked absolutely ridiculous, but for once I didn't complain. I was too busy hyperventilating. And of course, actually swallowing the rest of my breakfast.

It was too late to back out _now, _to do so would be a huge blow of betrayal to my closest friends, and besides, I _never _admit defeat to Draco Malfoy.

So I had to face my fate. Which wasn't very easy.

"Announcing… the Gryffindor team!" Lee Jordan was gone, replaced by a nerdy-looking Ravenclaw that stuck to the rules. How disappointing, I thought glumly at first. But then, she surprised us all with a rather biased poem as we stormed out onto the field, pumping our fists and leading a chant in a short moment of glory.

"They are red and gold, strong even without the foretold, Gryffindor the bold," the Ravenclaw invented on the spot, pushing her glasses up further up her nose, and shooting us a shy smile.

Our team blinked in surprise, and the loud, ecstatic cheers that followed nearly deafened me. I let a little grin creep up on my face. Yes. Even without Harry, the foretold, we could stand our own. I wouldn't let a tiny fear of heights affect my Gryffindor pride. I could do this.

"And also, announcing the Slytherin team." She added, sounding rather sarcastic. Gosh, I loved her already. There was a mixture of boos and cheers as always, and the doors slid open. Draco Malfoy, along with this bruised cheekbone, was in the lead, as do all team captains.

The sun swept up his white-blond hair, tousling it. He had cleaned up even more than usual for the Quidditch game, wearing the tailored green Quidditch uniform and his best aristocratic smirk. The uniform framed his athletic build, and the _smirk_... Well, the smirk had its usual affects on my traitorous heartbeat. Even with his still-bruised cheekbone (which I suspected he wore proudly), he was handsome.

His eyes locked onto mine, but the silvery pools were impenetrable.

Oh, he was going _down._

My resolve as stiff as my spine, I made my way to the middle of the field. The rest of the team stood in a formation that I vaguely remembered around me. I straddled my broom, and we rose steadily to the air, hovering in the air around Madam Hooch.

"Gryffindors, Slytherins," Madam Hooch began, her voice amplified. The cheering audience gradually dulled to a faint murmur, and the hawk-eyed professor continued to speak.

"For five years in a row," she began, "I've started every game with the same speech about fair play. It never had any effect."

There were a few nervous chuckles.

"Time and time again, fouls will be made, cheaters will cheat, and my command was ignored in the name of victory. This year, I'm not going to command you."

"I'm _asking _you." She continued, looking straight at the Slytherin team. I guess some things never change. There was a severe look in her amber eyes, but there was a certain sadness within them. "Don't be so caught up in the petty details like which house you're from, but keep an eye on the bigger picture. One that's much darker than you think."

By now, there was no doubt about what she was talking about. _Voldemort's return_, something that we had somehow managed to place at the back of our minds, behind things as trivial as exams and boys and, well, rivalries. I remembered vaguely that Madam Hooch had lost a family member to the Death Eaters recently.

On that dark note, Madam Hooch lifted the whistle to her lips unceremoniously.

She blew it.

And I sat on my broom, right there in the middle of the field, in a daze, as shapes blurred around me. I felt so foolish. What had I said to Malfoy before the game, again? "_I'll take you down if it's the last thing I do, and __**then **__you'll be sorry."_

If that wasn't a childish, first year level taunt, then Dudley was the Chosen One.

I shook my head free of those thoughts and lifted off, concentrating on the bright blue sky. The sun pounded down on me, drawing beads of sweat. I searched through narrowed eyes for the snitch, getting my head into the game.

I owed that much to Harry—to give this game my best shot before my own weaknesses got in the way.

Unfortunately, everything was intensified by the heat, which also made the snitch even harder to find, because I had to shade my eyes from the sun.

There was a loud ding, and I realized happily that Gryffindor had scored. A second ding came almost immediately after, and it went to Slytherin. Shit. This was going to be a close game. Which meant that the Seeker would be incredibly important. Merlin's balls, why on earth had I gotten myself into this position?

I couldn't see where Harry, Ginny, and Hermione were from my viewpoint, but I could make out the hulking shape of Hagrid's weathered face, dressed in brown and pressing a pair of black binoculars to his eyes. I shot a quick glance downwards, towards the ground, and blanched. Nope. Don't look down, Fawn.

I really shouldn't waste my chance, but I couldn't bring myself to do anything more heroic than shielding my eyes. I drifted around lazily, underneath the other players instead of above them like seekers usually do. I looked stubbornly upwards, into the blinding sun, searching foolishly for the snitch.

I wasn't scared at all, I thought proudly. But at the same time, I couldn't seem to bring myself to fly upwards. And I couldn't see Malfoy anywhere. It was always a good idea to keep an eye on the other seeker during a game.

The _dings_ came rapidly, and I realized that this was one of the most intense games I've seen in a couple of years. The Slytherins and Gryffindors were closely tied, at most only ten points apart at each time.

Everything depended upon me and Malfoy, and that pressure had my palms sweating into the handle of my broomstick. Why the hell did I have to get myself involved in such a crucial role?

It was nearly an hour into the game, and I still hadn't caught sight of the—wait. What was that? A little black spot darted across the peripheral of my vision again, and I spun around to look. A tiny black sphere blocked out the fiery burning of the sun for a moment, and I narrowed my eyes for a closer look.

Bless Merlin. It was the snitch!

A thrill was sent through me, and I leaned forwards, turning my broom around and flying full-speed towards it. I never took my eyes off it, but I did note gratefully in the back of my mind when one of the beaters blocked a bludger for me.

And I did notice when Malfoy, who had been circling high up above, rushed down to join me, going much faster than I could on that shiny Bluejay (the newest model) of his. But I had the head start, and I was determined not to lose it.

Suddenly, just as Malfoy became level with me, the snitch switched directions, heading vertically upwards. Suddenly, in a rush of adrenaline, I remembered what I did during tryouts. I gripped my thighs tightly around my broom, and tilted it directly upwards. I shot up like a rocket, going at speeds that rattled my teeth and stung my eyes, but I was caught up in the thrill of the chase.

I reached out with one hand as I gained ground. The fluttering, renowned golden snitch was only millimeters away from my straining, trembling hand. All around me, I heard the gasps of admiration from the crowd.

And _of course_, that was when disaster struck.

I simply glanced down.

I couldn't help it—it was instinct when I felt Malfoy's broom nipping at my heels. So my eyes darted downwards, and focused on my worst nightmare instead of Malfoy. My fear of heights came rushing back, hitting me in full-force. I screamed as I felt a jolt rock through my bones.

My thighs slipped, and I found my body pressed against the full length of the broom, still being carried upwards. My head began to spin, and suddenly I felt as if I were looking down on my flailing, fumbling, _falling _body from far away.

In my ignorant terror, I paid attention to some of the oddest things.

The faded chime of the Clock Tower, from far, far away.

When my scrambling fingernails scraped a piece of paint off the handle.

The fact that Hagrid was wearing grey, not brown.

And of course, in too much detail, I felt the sweaty fingers of my palm slipping and sliding downwards, threatening to let go at any moment.

The sound of a bruising scream echoed in my ears and no doubt it was my voice. I clawed at anything solid, and the broomstick spun, taking me along for a terrifying ride.

Malfoy's robes brushed against mine as he rushed past me, his broom carried on by momentum. They were warm and solid, a sharp comparison to the emptiness around me. He was going for the snitch. He was abandoning me, I thought irrationally.

My hands reached out to grab at him. I missed. My hands slipped even further.

Oh Merlin. Oh Merlin. I was going to fall. I was going to die.

I was choking on my own saliva, eyes brimming with tears as I pleaded for _anyone _to help me. Bits and pieces of a sentence escaped my trembling lips, words that sounded suspiciously like "help," and "please," and "Draco." Weren't Gryffindors supposed to be brave? Where was the bravery in me now?

It had been swept away by that battering wind and was now lying in pieces on that brutal green grass under me.

My legs kicked, trying to propel me back onto my broom.

I slipped. I was lost.

Suddenly, a pale, smooth hand caught me by the front of my robes. And just like that, I was found again.

"What's happening up there, Hagrid?" Harry asked tentatively, tugging on Hagrid's arm. He was currently hiding under Hagrid's large coat, having been smuggled out of detention by his friends.

Ginny was trying to steal Hagrid's binoculars away, having been released temporarily from the hospital wing, while Hermione was trying to perform an intricate spell that involved heightened vision for a short period of time. Neville, Seamus, and Luna were crammed into the booth with them, all squinting up at the girl with the flowing honey-brown hair.

Or more accurately, squinting _down. _

"Oi, whas she doin' down 'er?" Seamus mumbled, sharing a piece of bacon pie with Neville. "Me mam told me seekers ought to fly as high as possible to look for the snitch."

"Yes, that's usually the case. But in this case, Fawn is actually being quite strategic. The sun is too bright today for her to see something just as golden and shiny as everything else from up high." Hermione explained. "So if she's under the sun and looking into it, she'll see a black shape if the snitch flies over her."

Neville tugged on her sleeve, and with a sigh, Hermione began the spell on him, too. There was a faint lull in conversation.

"Well lookey here, that Ron is a pretty good keeper, eh?" Hagrid commented. "Look at 'im doing those flips and—oi! Gimme my binoculars back!"

Ginny had managed to snatch the binoculars away from Hagrid and was now redirecting them downwards, towards Fawn. "She looks awfully bored, but if you say she's being strategic, Hermione, so be it."

"She is!" Hermione insisted. "Fawn's a smarter girl than any of you give her credit for."

Ginny redirected the binoculars again. "Well, at least Malfoy doesn't seem to be having much luck up there, either."

Hagrid made a grab for the binoculars again. "No, let me watch, Hagrid!" Ginny whined, holding it as far away from Hagrid as possible. "Please!"

Harry sighed. "Can someone please tell me what's happening?"

Suddenly, a large cheer rose from the audience all around this little dysfunctional group. Aforementioned group looked up just in time to see Fawn shooting after something that remained invisible to them at this distance, but there was no doubt about it—she was chasing the snitch, and Malfoy was still quite a distance away.

Harry jumped up and began pumping his fists in his excitement. "Come on, come on," he muttered under his breath, emerald eyes shining with anticipation.

"Fuck off, Malfoy!" Ginny screamed happily. "That snitch is ours!"

"Go Fawn, you can—oh!" Hermione began, only to be cut off by her own gasp as Fawn began flying vertically, straight into the air. Malfoy's momentum carried him past her, and his struggle to change directions was clear even from this distance.

A huge, shit-eating grin grew on Harry's face. This was it. This was supposed to be his moment of glory, but at the same time, he was so proud of Fawn, it was crazy. Who knew she had it in her?

Beside him, Hagrid gave a rather anguished bellow. "Whats tha matter?" Seamus asked, straining to see.

Harry couldn't see anything either—that was until he noticed that Fawn's progress had halted.

She gave a loud scream, and Harry couldn't stand it anymore. This was _his team, _for Merlin's sake! He should know what was going on! He grabbed the binoculars unceremoniously from poor Hagrid (who had just gotten it back), and plastered it to his face.

What he saw surprised him. Fawn was caught between screaming and pleading for anyone to help her. There were tears streaming down her face unashamedly. The expression on Fawn's face; her blind panic and terror made her look so vulnerable that if he didn't know better he would've thought…

He would have thought that she was afraid of heights. Which made no sense. _But… it does make sense. _A little voice in Harry's head said. _She came to you yesterday, what did she say? That it wasn't the best time to tell you this, but…_

"Oh, bollocks," Harry breathed, already standing up and rushing towards the stand where the commentator and Professor McGonagall stood. He had to stop this game. Now.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Neville asked, on his feet and following him within seconds. The rest of the group stood and turned partially, while trying to keep an eye on Fawn, in the sky.

"She'safraidofheights!" Harry panted, squeezing past crowds of people.

"What?" Hermione blinked in confusion, shouting to where Harry was quickly disappearing. She was unable to follow him due to her heightened eyesight. "What did you say, Harry?"

Out of instinct, she glanced over to check on her endangered friend. To her surprise, Malfoy, who had managed to get his broom to go vertically as well and had gone past Fawn's writhing form, was beginning to twist in midair.

He stopped, hovering expertly in midair, looking torn. Heightened brown eyes scanned the sky, and Hermione realized that the snitch was still heading upwards.

"The snitch never changed directions!" Hermione exclaimed, touching about blindly for her friends. Seamus winced as her hand smacked him in the ribcage.

"Wha? Then whas Malfoy doin', waiting for Fawn or something?" He asked sarcastically, choosing to ignore her unintentional smack. The heightened eyesight spell hadn't worked on him, after all, and he was desperate to know what was going on.

"I have no idea." There was a strange look on Malfoy's face, and if it had been on anyone else's face, Hermione might have said it was concern.

"Maybe he saw a nargle," Luna mumbled, but her usually dreamy blue eyes were uncharacteristically focused for once.

"He's flying towards her—wait no, he just went straight past Fawn…" Hermione reported, eyes wide, glued to the scene unfolding before her. "No, wait, Malfoy's turning around, it was the momentum—"

"So he was heading for Fawn after all!" Seamus exclaimed.

"Why would 'e do such a thing?" Hagrid rumbled from beside Hermione.

Up in the sky, victory had been just within reach for Draco Malfoy. That is, until he heard a panicked shriek that tugged at his heartstrings, and as if he were some sort of fucking puppy on a leash, Draco Malfoy turned back. He hated himself for it.

Draco could see her clearly from this distance. She was thrashing, trembling, and generally making her situation worse. Eyes wide and vulnerable, pink lips puckered in an 'o' shape and pleading something.

You see, he knew she was afraid of heights, and that's why he had been so shocked earlier, when he realized Fawn would be taking Potter's place. He also knew that no one else knew her secret phobia. Which brings him to his next thought:

Why would he want to help the enemy?

_For the same reason you saved her life in Diagon Alley. _

So he went, even though he still wasn't quite sure why he helped her on both accounts. It took a few tries, too. The first time, he flew too fast and went straight past her, forcing him to curse and spin his broom around, the rough motion making his head spin.

Suddenly, Fawn's hands slipped, but this time Draco was ready. He steadied himself and reached out, catching her by the front of her robes, right between the breastplates that was her so called 'protection gear.'

He heaved her onto his broom, so that she was sitting behind him, with her trembling arms curled in a crushing grip around his waist. Sobs wracked her frame, and tears soaked into his shoulder.

"Oh sweet Merlin," she sniffled after a moment, keeping her vice-like grip around him.

"Circe's right tit!" He snapped back, trying to maintain his cruel, I-don't-give-a-rat's-ass demeanor, even as he twisted in his seat, trying to make sure she was okay. "You stupid girl!"

She just grinned weakly at him, looking both relieved and baffled at the same time. "Thanks, Draco." She mumbled a little belatedly, licking her chapped lips, her lashes fanning out prettily over demure eyes.

Just like that muggle story—what was it called again? The appalling one with that baby deer and his dead mom and singing skunks and birds and flowers.

Draco had just decided that he should spend a little time researching this later, when that idiot Potter's voice blasted into his eardrums. "STOP!" He shouted. Draco winced. "Stop the game! Someone get Fawn out of there! Someone—_Malfoy!?_"

"Harry Potter, what is the meaning of this?" Professor McGonagall's stern voice was carried out through the speakers. The crowd tittered a little, even though they, too, were clearly baffled by the events on the Quidditch field.

"Hey, Draco?" Fawn tugged on his waist a little, forcing his attention as well as making his breath hitch a little. Her firm, smooth thighs squeezed against his back unintentionally. Silently, Draco prayed that her arms wouldn't move just _a little bit _lower. Or maybe he prayed that she would.

Suddenly, his pants felt a little too tight. Which was a bad idea, seeing as he was on a broom.

"Why did you come back for me?" Fawn asked firmly, craning her neck to peer over his shoulder at him. Apparently, she had recovered quickly from her shock. "Why didn't you just let me fall?"

"You're fucking afraid of heights, Fa—Saffron, you think I didn't know that?" Draco answered distractedly. Oh Merlin, she was beautiful. He decided to face the front again.

"You—what—how did you find out?" Fawn was shocked, to say the least.

"_Oh no, how did he find out my deepest, darkest, weakness?" _Draco mocked her in an exaggerated high-pitched voice. "_Is he going to use it against me? Is he going to humiliate me?"_ Somehow, it was easier to mock her when he wasn't actually looking at her.

Fawn flushed, a pink color blossoming over her cheeks, something that Malfoy didn't miss, even though he was pointedly looking away from her. "Shut up, Malfoy," she snapped. "I asked you a question."

"Oh stop, Saffron, I was testing my legilimency skills," Draco snarked back. But he answered her question anyway. "Just so you know, nightmares are a pretty good indicator of what someone is afraid of." He tilted his head a little, knowing that Fawn would be insulted.

She was.

"But—you were in my _mind?" _Fawn's voice rose to a shriek. Fortunately, the two of them were too far away from the ground for anyone else to hear them.

"I saw an opportunity, and took it." Draco shrugged. "What? Did you expect me to ask?" He paused, letting this sink in. "And aren't you glad that I took a little peek? Otherwise, I wouldn't have known that you needed saving. I would have just let you fall, gorgeous."

Fawn seethed. "Put me down, Malfoy."

Draco let a slow smile grow on his face. "Sure, your Highness. Shall I just toss you over the side, then?"

"_NO!_"

Panicking, Fawn practically molded herself to Draco, and grasped the front of Draco's Quidditch robes with trembling fingers so tightly that she ripped a little seam in its intricate hemming.

"Bloody hell, calm down Saffron!" Draco snarled as he heard the tearing sound. "I'm not actually going to drop you! What kind of person do you think I am?"

Draco bit his tongue harshly, but it was too late. The question was out, and it hung in the frosty air between them, taunting him. What kind of person did Fawn Saffron think he was? Well, the answer wasn't too hard to guess.

"Sure, I'll put you down," Draco said before Fawn could answer his badly thought-out question. His voice was distinctively colder than it had been before, and it made him wonder why he cared what Fawn thought of him. "But let me remind you of a teeny little fact before I do: you owe me, Saffron, big time."

**~Nightingalelynx**


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